Q&A with Bobby Hatfield: Growing in Hope

Bobby Hatfield is a musical scientist, an explorer of sound, experience, and emotions. Well known in the Columbia scene for his piano chops and unique song writing style, his live performances are something to behold– they never disappoint. Read about his growth as an artist, process, thoughts on Columbia and fellow musicians.

“I find art focused on the wounds maybe sometimes helps the pace of nursing those wounds, because it gives them context during their time rather than random infinite tyranny, and creating can be hard during those times but the unchecked loop can be disastrous. But while I breath I hope.”

 

Bobby Hatfield — photo— Kati Baldwin

 

JASPER: Tell us a little about how you got started and the projects you have been a part of over the years. 

HATFIELD: After 5 year run of The Sea Wolf Mutiny, Numbtongue was an idea to develop and experiment with songwriting and songcraft within purposeful constraints. What can I do when it is just me? What can I write around bass guitar as the lead voice? Can you write a Waltz at 4 beats per measure? And furthermore, can I deconstruct both the art that folks have heard already as well as continue to deconstruct myself as “the self” and the contradictory mechanics of faith and doubt, love and hate, heaven and hell, destiny and choice, hope, and hopelessness, and other rather cliche anxieties into an entirely not cliche expression? What could it mean to take away everything I relied on and create from scratch?  

I found myself as the side man on keys for ET Anderson, not out front. This helped me learn a way to exist in the more joyful bombast of TSWM, where I wasn’t the focus but could provoke a response through someone else’s music and be felt rather than heard. Staying busy with that let my musical imagination go a bit wild. My first release, Exhumation, was an attempt to sound as though it was a time capsule discovered in the sands of the internet, as though guitar distortion had never been heard before, to ask the question of nostalgia: “are you worth my time?” 

So, if my first release “exhumation” was about an abstract rebirth of sorts, my sophomore release Phantom Limbs is more about wiping the dust off such a creature as me, seemingly just discovered, and seeing who’s there now. And while it didn’t happen in a linear emotional way, what was looking back at me was a person in lament. A person with anger and trust issues. A person who had felt betrayed and not really dealt with or admitted to what that meant. And what I found in that fundamental sorrow was that, through no plan of my own, I found myself yearning to express these emotions in simple terms, and it bothered me that I needed to make beautiful monuments to what seemed less than beautiful feelings. Things like trying to process the sudden suicide of a friend and somehow search the hope. But I’ve learned since making and releasing it that to exude such thoughts doesn’t have to be a bad thing, and creating these songs as permanent places meant justifying the feelings as valid. Literally doing them Justice. We grow around pain and loss and grief the same way rings on a tree reveal their history on earth. And for me this album was a record of a tree still standing and growing in hope despite the damage, and really naming the feelings gives them a wholeness that you can then grow around. They don’t necessarily “heal” in the sense that you ever feel like you did before you required healing, but maybe just maybe you will feel them as apart of you whole. It was a struggle to get this record off my chest no doubt, but if there’s hope in simply admitting hopelessness, to continue on is to live your life carrying it but maybe not nursing it anymore. I find art focused on the wounds maybe sometimes helps the pace of nursing those wounds, because it gives them context during their time rather than random infinite tyranny, and creating can be hard during those times but the unchecked loop can be disastrous. But while I breath I hope. 

Numbtongue is kind of this idea that “you can’t taste it but you know it’s there” either because you’ve felt it so much or said it so much or because it’s hard to but words on it, and the new record title “Phantom Limbs” is similar as an idea where these specific instances exist longer after your done feeling them, and I know as I get distance from some of these songs creation, there’s an ability to look at them and the feeling inhabiting them more objectively, which makes it far easier to sing. I hope that what I’ve tried to do with this project is hope.

JASPER: What does your writing process look like? How has it changed or evolved over the years?

HATFIELD: Early on it was almost exclusively me writing and singing from the piano & later a guitar, but I wasn’t comfortable with just learning, so most of my early guitar playing [consisted of] alternate tunings that I felt were unique tonally. But I’ve constantly challenged myself into the next phase of something that might not feel natural to me but then I try to inhabit it in “my style.” I remember spending an entire year exclusively forcing myself to write or compose songs on the guitar in the standard tuning. Just to see if I could fit inside the mold. I liked what I learned about myself as an artist, but oddly I haven’t ever released more than one song publicly that was in standard tuning. I tried to stay in that traditional songwriter vein at first because I didn’t play other instruments so piano felt like a home base, and it still does. As I’ve gotten older and wilier about what is “allowed to be a song” and being my own producer on almost everything numbtongue related…. Inspiration can vary widely.

Sometimes it’s a lyric I like that falls out of my mouth acapella and then I try and find chords around it. Sometimes I start with a drumbeat that is lyrical itself already and I try to write against a unique linguistic beat. Sometimes I start with a bass line. What’s interesting is often a song will start on one instrument and end up totally focused on another one by the end. That is the case with my new song “I Will You Will” off my new record, it is very piano heavy live. But it began on acoustic guitar strumming the chord progression in a completely different key, than it is now., and all I had was the words “I never thought I never thought I would give up on you” just strumming 8th notes in standard tuning. That one idea that fell out randomly gestated for about 6 months or so, maybe longer. Now you won’t hear a single acoustic guitar on the song on the record because it was the vehicle that got me there, not necessarily the end product.  

Because I still love the concept record, some songs are born out of a communicative necessity in relation to the rest of a record of songs. Sometimes I realize “wow this song needs better track coming before it” or I hear an entirely new idea that should come after a song that already exists, and I’ve always really tried hard to make sure track 7 is interesting because records are risk of the sagging middle by track 7. I feel like a lot of artists in the past used tracks 7 for a perhaps average or mediocre song at times. I try to avoid mediocre or anything that takes up unnecessary space. I like writing with the sense that everything has  purpose and identity musically, even my singing voice, which I will fundamentally alter to fit the song if I can manage to make it sound convincing.  

JASPER: Do you have any tips or tricks for finding inspiration or getting over writer's block? 

HATFIELD: I find that it helps to chase rabbits even down their holes, and record yourself doing it. It may feel and sound dumb but if you watch and listen later, the replay can be informative even if uncomfortable. But also allowing writer’s block to be the block it is and let it rest, just walk around it, and move on to something different entirely that may feel freer or more fun and distracting. You can always come back to that block later; it is not the end of your world. Sometimes paths are dead ends for you. Walking around the block in the road can also be “maybe this is boring and I should juke styles right here and don something surprising just to hard left it both for myself and the listener so we can walk away from this dead end in real time together” and then you can decide if you want to repeat the phrase that dead ended and it feels like a pattern then that just has a dead end. Music is helpful in that it is a mercifully repetitive and endlessly self-healing of its mistakes in that way at times. It can also be deciding to rest and recharge and come back at it fresh in the morning. I need this advice because I am notorious for working 5+ hours straight in an idea that I hate later, but sometimes you have to see where the rabbit hole goes. I’ve sadly had a lot of success grinding an idea for five hours to a place I think is finished and sincerely liking the result of my efforts so I guess sometimes the advice is take a wrecking ball of ego to the writers block and destroy it by force of will. 

JASPER: How do you know when something is done? 

HATFIELD: The easiest answer is it’s done when it’s done? But the clearer answer is it’s done when you can hear everything you need to hear and feel what you want to feel. I find that it’s always a moment with my songs where I smile and say “oh there you are” as if it was always there until it finally makes sense what I want to hear.

JASPER: What is your favorite or least favorite show you've played in and why? 

HATFIELD: Favorite shows: all house shows. I have never played in a bad house show. The Price Street House Show was probably 2013 or 2014 with my old band The Sea Wolf Mutiny. It was up a flight of stairs on the second floor of this house right off Main Street in downtown Columbia SC. At the time I was playing this 250lb Yamaha cp60 keyboard that required 2-4 people to move so it was a quite a chore to get it up to a second story. We passed out tambourines. It was so hot. There was this guy reading poetry as the opener and he was incredible, absolutely slayed, one of the coolest opening acts ever at a show. I think his name was Connor. The energy of a house show is already something different because it feels personal and special and no one else is here but us and it’s always very “all hands-on deck” we’re in this together audience and band and crew alike … but that normal vibe was on absolute overdrive by the time we played this night.   

We played something called Dead Tree Festival another time that was a house show of equally ineffable and palpable anticipation that you could cut with a knife, but the show was shut down by the police 3 songs in. The floor was also beginning to “smile” under the weight of the humanity standing on it.  

JASPER: Who are some of your favorite local artists and why? 

HATFIELD: Well this is hard to answer because I don’t know if I should answer with latelies or evers. I will go with lately: I fell in love with Gamine like 1 minute and 12 seconds into their inaugural set at GrungeProm we played together last year, just an instant classic Columbia band waiting to happen; it’s like the Cure meets Nirvana and shoegaze; it is not a criticism to say I love that they feel like a work in progress happening before your eyes being born from stone they are personally carving themselves out of, but they could immortalize any moment in the process of that progress and it would be great.  

Rex Darling vocalist Catherine (Hunsinger) is just effortless and has such stellar tone under constant control and sounds like it can go anywhere she wants, beautiful voice.  

Stagbriar are deep long running friends of mine, and their song “Open Floor Plan” is a crown jewel of theirs to me, I love the way it uses this simple rotating bassline polyrhythmically against their duo harmonies. 

Dear Blanca boys will always have a special place in my heart, not the least of which because Dylan Dickerson, their leading man, has been so helpful and encouraging via his role at Comfort Monk promoting my latest release Phantom Limbs.

Death Ray Robin, Desiree Richardson’s solo project is another favorite new person for me. I saw her perform also at GrungeProm last year for the first time and oh wow, is she gifted or what? I knew immediately a fellow meticulous producer who knows exactly what they want from a song they made, and has a tight control of vision and execution to boot, but she not only crafts beats and chord progressions and soundscapes from scratch but there was a moment she abandoned the mic entirely, because she didn’t need it whatsoever and turned her set over to the opera within and it was as mesmerizing to watch her balance it all as it was to hear.  

And last but certainly not least my friend Alyssa Stewart, whose project Local Honey opened my Phantom Limbs Album Release last October. Columbia has rarely seen as erudite a songwriter and poet, who also developed a live set that sounded like a seasoned professional after only a couple of public performances. With many years of stage performance and classical vocal performance training, there’s certainly a foundation to explain such ease but it’s such a different experience becoming vulnerable with your own songwriting in front of perfect strangers. And she met the moment of her first outing at New Brookland Tavern with such aplomb, ease, and whimsy, knowing that nerves could best her at moment was impossible. I couldn’t have been more impressed nor have gushed more to her afterwards. I really hope everyone gets to hear her and see her perform her original music in this region and beyond. If she wants it, she’s got a cool music future. 

Oh and p.s. I’m happy People Person is a thing again in Columbia. 

JASPER: What do you think about Columbia's art/music scene and how has it changed over the years? 

HATFIELD: I think Covid brought a lot of communal art experience to such a halt that it altered the reality of the return to normal. It actually feels like there are 5 or 6 music scenes happening all at once right now. I think some folks are playing catch up, but some folks are trying to start things for the first time that they didn’t have a chance to start for two years. It’s a bit difficult to keep up with the sheer volume of scene activity happening. A lot of my peers from before Covid hit haven’t been as active since, and it’s been tricky getting back at it even for Numbtongue. So I think what I’m seeing is almost too much of a good thing? It’s hard to call it bad but I think Columbia has grown performance opportunities given the types of venues that host music downtown has diversified and you still have the old haunts that host music. Places are selling out for shows and it’s kinda crazy overdrive some weeks. It has actually gotten way harder if not impossible to avoid booking a date that doesn’t conflict with someone else’s show lately. Which I suppose is a good problem to have. I think it just snuck up on me.

So I think there’s a fair amount of activity that is siloed and invisible across a few music scenes right now. I do think there seem to be more opportunities now than ever to seek a performance, but it does create the challenge of being able to do anything unique enough as an independent local to make a statement or draw. But as far as cultural growth, I am completely enamored with Columbia’s local non-chain business developments from Noma bistro, Transmission Arcade, Curiosity Coffee, The Warmouth, All Good Books, etc. That’s just the start of a very long list of new businesses over near where I live in town. Downtown Columbia at least seems more vibrant and diverse than ever. So despite the sense of rarity shows might have held in the past, there’s some rare air were all living in still trying to move past Covid and it feels like everyone is trying to get as much done as possible before the world tried to end again. I don’t know maybe I’m making a mountain out of a mole hill. It seems great?

JASPER: What advice do you have for other artists?

HATFIELD: Never stop. If you’re an artist, keep creating. If you’re an aspiring artist, keep creating. You or the world will only be the better for it. Create, oh creator, and thus be recreated.

JASPER: Any other things you want folks to know 

HATFIELD: Stream my new record Phantom Limbs, it’s available everywhere. 

 

You can see Numbtoungue this Sunday, April 23rd at New Brookland Tavern with Secret Guest, Summer of Snakes, and Gamine at 6pm. Also make sure to wish Bobby a happy Birthday!

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THE BEAT: My Favorite Music of 2022 by Kevin Oliver

The following is a list of my favorite music released by Columbia, South Carolina artists in 2022. It is woefully incomplete, as there were many other artists and albums I enjoyed this year, but these are the ones that have really made a home in my head for the foreseeable future. 

 

1. Saul Seibert, etc., Zion: A Composition

An extremely ambitious multimedia project is probably impossible to fully appreciate in just its audio form, but the three movements that comprise Zion are at least enjoyable that way, if not as mind-blowing as the full three-dimensional live experience. The ebb and flow of the various parts, instruments, and their arrangement throughout create a psychedelic space in which a listener can exist however they choose–passive acceptance, interactive challenge, or somewhere in between. 

Music | Zion. A Composition. (bandcamp.com) 

 

2. Lang Owen, She's My Memory

It’s not hyperbole to say that Columbia hasn’t ever produced a songwriter quite like Lang Owen before; his combination of 70’s singer-songwriter style and an incisive, observational writing technique would be rare anywhere these days. The songs here are his best so far and defy a simple paragraph explanation–so do me a favor, go listen and let them speak to you, too. To paraphrase “The Long Way,” he’ll take you the long way and then bring you back another. 

She's My Memory | Lang Owen (bandcamp.com)

 

3. EZ Shakes, Everything Changes

An Americana powerhouse of a band over their two full length releases, on this brief three-song EP, EZ Shakes announced their transition into a sonically more rock ‘n’ roll soundscape. The Velvets-meets-Neil Young feel of “Damn Fools” is driven by the most addictive two-note bass line ever, courtesy bassist Jim Taylor, while singer and bandleader Zach Seibert stretches his vocal instrument on “Waiting on the Bubble To Pop,” a Wilco-esque slice of sublime, chiming tunefulness that shifts gears effortlessly. It’s a cliche to say it, but the worst thing about this release is that at three songs, it’s way too damn short. 

▶︎ Everything Changes | E.Z. Shakes (bandcamp.com) 

4. Numbtongue, Phantom Limbs

Bobby Hatfield has been turning heads and ears with drama-filled rock since his days with The Sea Wolf Mutiny. As Numbtongue, his musical vision has only expanded, eschewing the limitations of a traditional ‘band’ with a combination of acoustic and synthetic sounds. On this new album, the arrangements are next level, with multiple themes threaded throughout and even the smallest elements adding texture and finesse to the songs. There are traces of everything from Radiohead to Tyler the Creator here arranged in chasms of genre and style that Hatfield not only manages to cross but bind together in a way that somehow makes perfect sense.

▶︎ Phantom Limbs | numbtongue (bandcamp.com)  

5. Brandy and the Butcher, Lucky Foot

There are female singers, and then there are frontwomen. Liz Hale is the latter, a blast-your-face-off vocalist who’s all attitude, all the time. The band has no choice but to keep up with her energy level, and they succeed handily here, diving headlong into a bracing set of songs that evoke all the great punk and rock raconteurs, from The Stooges and MC5 to The Cramps and X. 

▶︎ Lucky Foot | Brandy and the Butcher (bandcamp.com) 

6. Candy Coffins, Once Do It With Feeling 

Jame Lathren has a fondness for 80s goth-rock and the dramatic flair of David Bowie, and that comes through loud and clear on the darkly rendered songs here as he snarls and sneers. The delay effects from former Bachelors Of Art guitarist Tom Alewine don’t hurt in setting the proper mood, either. But it is Lathren’s songwriting that lifts this above being a simple genre exercise and into classic songcraft as he details the rise and fall of a relationship over the course of ten songs. 

 Candy Coffins (bandcamp.com)  

7. Moses Andrews, Exodus Pt II

Confessional songwriting is a genre unto itself, but Moses Andrews puts himself out there in ways not often heard with this collection. Contributing bass, drums, organ, synth, and vocals along with a supporting cast of locals such as Cecil Decker and Sean Thomson, Andrews touches on hip-hop, country, pop, and indie rock sounds in the process of illustrating the world through his own experiences with others. The mirror he’s holding up here is uncomfortable, but entirely accurate and needed. 

▶︎ Exodus Pt. II | Moses Andrews III (bandcamp.com)

 

8. Rex Darling, Living Room Diaries

One of the more adventurous live acts to surface in Columbia in recent years, this recorded effort delivers on that promise with atmospheric, exotic pop music that packs a surprising punch. There are traces of cabaret jazz and more than a little Amy Winehouse in vocalist Catherine Hunsinger’s style, while the guitar work of John Vail introduces jam rock and 70s fusion into the improbable mix. All that, and the songs are playful, inventive, and catchy as hell. 

https://open.spotify.com/album/2mfp1JvgUm5jguQeEXMBI2?si=TNuD1sLzQqCJyT5fwihboQ 

 

9. Todd Mathis and Clayton Mathis, Home

Siblings have made some great music together, but this is no sibling harmony album. Instead, these are the brothers who sit on their dad’s back porch reminiscing about all the shit they did to each other as kids. Steeped in family ties, this is some of Todd’s most endearing and accessible work.

Home | Todd Mathis, Clayton Mathis | Todd Mathis (bandcamp.com) 

10. Hillmouse, See You In The Car 

Tyler Gordon’s current musical vehicle is transporting a nicely done batch of new songs here, the kind of timeless melodies that evokes everyone from Tommy Keene to Ed Sheeran–a wide range, to be sure. His world-weary vocal delivery stops the proceedings from skidding into saccharine-sweet territory, instead parking Hillmouse in a post-emo lethargic swoon. 

▶︎ See You In The Car | Hillmouse (bandcamp.com)

 

NUMBTONGUE at Jam Room Music Festival by Bria Barton

The Jam Room Music Festival is set to open Saturday, October 14, and one act in particular, NUMBTONGUE, is preparing to perform independently for the first time at the event.

 

Inspired by the likes of Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, and David Bowie—to name only a few of the countless creative minds that influence him—Bobby of NUMBTONGUE is an entity whose music and talents stretch beyond experimental. They’re bordering on the side of transcendental.

 

A self-described sugar addict with a tendency for sleepless days and nights, Bobby infuses and binds his music with pieces of deeply personal, historical, and natural.

 

He sat down with Jasper to discuss his recent album as well as his much-anticipated performance for The Jam Room Music Festival.

 

 

Q: A lot of your music on Exhumation had to do with your son and your feelings upon becoming a father for the first time. How has that dynamic been maintained (or not) now that he is a little older? How has that affected your writing process?

 

NUMBTONGUE: Becoming a father is certainly a sliver of what light Exhumation casts about me, but a sliver in a prism.  The theme thus far in the song that is NUMBTONGUE is largely one of self-fragmentation.  These songs are less an attempt to gather those fragments in a manageable whole as they are a building frustration at being unable to do so, mostly especially in a vacuum, alone. 

 

“The blind man blindfolded shuts his eyes, in the deepest cave, and it gets him high…” I say at one point.

 

So I fear saying that being a new dad is a dominant theme, as it may confound and confuse someone unaware of my aims. A hovering reality to be sure, that may help some listeners to know about me, but not required to understand what’s going on

 

Strangely most, if not all, of these songs began before I became a father. Records are about folding oneself inside out for all to see, and inevitably that part of my identity spills over, but often only as metaphorically parallel to the larger themes present. 

 

 I’ve said before in relation to this record that I haven’t fully processed becoming a father yet (not that one ever does), but it’s largely my inability to process such a blinding weight of self-identity (among many) that grips the other threads of me, each of which begin their own unspooling in the process. 

 

Who am I as a child and son?  

Who am I as a husband?  

Who am I as a citizen? 

Who am I as a sentient creature?

Who am I when truly alone?  

“Who am I that you would consider me?”

 

There was also an unexpectedly prescient tone of cynicism (for my personal life that is) present on the record, from a time when I was seeking merely to be more honest with myself, as someone prone to hope to a fault. 

 

Yet now I feel more fragmented and disillusioned than ever.  I told my mom recently that, “It’s not that I’m hopeless, I’ve just never hoped less.”  Which is an odd thing to say now as a father of two. 

 

But the year 2016 was a bleeding year for me for a number of personal reasons I won’t go into, and the burden of completing the nearly conceptually finished ‘Exhumation’ at the time without it becoming tainted by that dark year nearly killed my desire to complete the project entirely. The album was delayed for over a year.

 

It’s almost as if I’m only just now consciously processing what I was saying on the record without knowing I was preparing myself for an unforeseen fallout.  I finished it because I needed to begin the next chapter before anyone had even heard the first. So I’m grateful to have made this record for my future self to perform as an unexpected solace. It’s become quite the table of contents of things to come.

 

 

Q: Describe the logistical and creative differences between the experimental music you’re doing now and the “artrock” music you wrote with The Sea Wolf Mutiny.

 

NUMBTONGUE: In many ways Numbtongue is a culmination and continuation of the ideas explored in The Sea Wolf Mutiny. That may manifest itself in some unsatisfying ways to fans of that former project, but they shouldn’t necessarily be surprised.

 

The name NUMBTONGUE in part suggests this, in that I feel like I am saying what I was always saying, and in some ways it feels I’ve said nothing at all. I’m numb to the truth of it all because it’s all too real and overwhelming. I can’t feel it but I know it’s there, at once an inability to speak both from atrophy & overuse.

 

The primal idea of NUMBTONGUE, oddly enough, is actually pulled from a quote the very first drummer of TSWM Joel Eaton told me once. He left early on to live in NH but it always stuck with me.  He mentioned it in relation to some lyrics we were writing at the time during a rehearsal. I messaged him about it when crafting Exhumation trying to hunt down this quote that eventually inspired Track 6 “Disjecta Membra” as I couldn’t locate it on my own and never asked about it further at the time.

 

That track eponymously refers to the archaeological term for pieces of pottery recovered from ancient civilizations at dig sites, and he told me that disjecta membra poetae (or “scattered truth” if you will) was a phrased once used by a theologian-philosopher J. G. Hamann from his essay Aesthetica in Nuce: “The fault may lie where it will (outside us or within us): all we have left in nature for our use is fragmentary verse and disjecta membra poetae. To collect these together is the scholar’s modest part; the philosopher’s to interpret them; to imitate them, or – bolder still – to adapt them, the poet’s."

 

I would say that passage has been one of the key motives behind the themes of self-fragmentation explored in The Sea Wolf Mutiny and NUMBTONGUE.  I actually almost called the record Self Storage in light of the location it was recorded in. 

 

But the word ‘exhumation’ implied a resurrection of sorts, and ‘exhaustion’ as well, and I liked that it almost sounds like the word “human exhaust” in a sense.  More importantly, it is a rarely used form of a word normally saved for the context of exhuming a body, usually when investigating a crime or an archeological dig.  

 

In many ways, TSWM were trending in these NUMBTONGUE directions even before its hiatus, so this project was and is more an attempt to grow and stretch that sound we had found.  One with any knowledge of previous TSWM work will hear it’s hallmarks in NUMBTONGUE both lyrically and melodically.  

 

The themes of alienation; the shattering of the myth of self; yearning for a home I’ve never been to before; “do I actually control what I believe?”; searching for what ultimate reality we can all grasp as true together; and decrying my utter failure to gather the shards of us all to do so; “if heaven is there what is it like and who walks there? These are just a few things wrestled with here.

 

There is a meditation on Exhumation where I wonder “sometimes I wish we really could be born again” in a song that wanders in the dark while blindfolded hoping to bump into some kind of quantum god (Constant), and my son coos and whines in the background of a song about the flaws in our definitions of intimacy (Mirabal) that is as much about being a husband as it is being a bad friend or lover. These are very The Sea Wolf Mutiny subjects.

 

From a logistical standpoint, I decided to seek stylistic choices that pulled from my roots as a drummer at heart, learning to craft a song towards its moments of silence more effectively than I had before, seeking to serve that silence and space between the notes.  So I let songs be born from the drums and bass guitar more often then the process allowed in the previous band. This was as much about being different for it’s own sake as it was to serve the theme of fragmentation by starting with grooves only and almost no tones.  

 

I would also ask myself: “What can I get from almost nothing? What does it sound like to have just excavated guitar distortion like an artifact?” Because tonally I wanted to explore the more primal languages of rock and roll even further than I had so far.  This meant recording no guitar amps and plugging directly into an audio interface preamp, not only to keep quiet around my family but to get in touch with the raw electricity before any pedal or amp could touch the signal. I learned later this is called ‘console distortion’. 

 

I used to devote myself to a single instrument (piano) and single role as wordsmith and lead singer, but I decided I wanted to wear all the hats this time. Sometimes it’s easier to color inside your own lines instead of outside someone else’s. I decided to flesh out and build upon each rough draft layer by layer until I liked what I heard and it felt complete. The whole record sounds as if it’s a Salvador Dali painting drawn on notebook paper. 

 

It was interesting living into such a disembodied recording process: a bedroom holding my one year-old son recording vocals, a climate control storage crafting one song for seven hours straight, tracking back up vocals into a Mac mic while parked in my minivan as a train drove by. The list goes on.

 

For many of the more abstract moments, I felt like a foley artist for a movie sometimes in my gathering of sounds via my smartphone, specifically sounds of a scattered metallophonic quality: clanging children’s toys or wind chimes while some kids played by the pool. 

 

Technology available now makes one feel limitless, and I was interested in limiting myself within those limitless possibilities.  One way was to use only instruments nearby that I already owned, not buy anything new.  There was one element that nearly scuttled the whole thing: I recorded all synthetic drums save one tambourine.  However, I felt compelled to use one drum kit in logic pro to aid in my ‘sophisticated rough draft’ approach by keeping it intentionally boxed in, almost like it was the only drum machine I owned, so that anything that bloomed from it had believable roots. Since I had no drum machine and loved this one kit so much, I leaned in. 

 

There are drumbeats and melodies on Exhumation that date back to middle school for me.

I always dreamed of making a record alone: writing, recording, mixing, producing, mastering. I tend to write songs in a manifold way in terms of instrumental composition, but rarely would I complete them to the degree. So this record sounds like all of my private demos always sounded in my last band, I just decided to release them. So in a way my process is no different and this just where I’ve evolved to at this point.  It just so happens I needed to stop tinkering with it and release it into the wild, so here we are. 

 

I think of TSWM as it’s own experiment in deconstructing rock and roll, working out whatever my worldview was back then in broad daylight, meditations and prayers outsourced to other ears. All of which are present in NUMBTONGUE.  Another contrast was I wrote nearly everything from guitars and drums and almost nothing on the piano except for two tracks for the better part of 2 years. There was a comfort zone I wanted to challenge there in order to expand how I thought about rhythm, timbre and tone, since I didn’t have to feel trapped on a piano. I have however found my way back to the ivories of late. 

 

 

Q: You’ve never played JRMF with one of your own projects. How are you preparing to showcase NUMBTONGUE?

 

NUMBTONGUE: Practice, practice, practice.  I am eternally grateful for Danny, Steve, Phil and Adam diving headfirst into this abstraction of my self with me, as this music is interminably difficult to evoke live, even for it’s author.  I’m beyond proud of our efforts over the past 7-8 months to reify three years of work.  

 

 

Why did you want to be a part of JRMF?

 

JRMF has consistently honored the local scene next to many an indie juggernaut, and it seemed as good a time as any to finally present one of my own projects on it’s stages.  It’s actually odd it hasn’t happened yet.

 

What aspect of JRMF are you most excited about?

 

Performing on the same stage as GBV and HGM is pretty amazing. And sharing a bill with so many talented friends and scene mates (Valley Maker, The Lovely Few, King Vulture, Barnwell, Fat Rat) and having a chance to hear us all in a bigger way than normal always excites me. There’s no place like home.

 

What I’m looking forward to the most though is finally playing almost every track off of Exhumation in a live setting. And also, debuting a brand new song no one’s heard yet, a song you know is great, is forever my happy place.

 

What can the audience expect from JRMF and your performance?

 

They can expect a robust and sophisticated oeuvre from almost every artist performing. I can’t wait. As far as NUMBTONGUE, for those that have seen us live so far, there will perhaps be more keys present than usual from yours truly.  I’ve found myself returning to that home of late.  And it feels good.