In Conversation With #136 - Spang Sisters
Spang Sisters On Making Friends In Music… Not In High Places
Lo-fi has become a broad church since the most recent new-school surfaced in the mid ‘10s; In lieu of Mac Demarco’s woozy and lilting Dream Pop, the squalid vignettes of Andy Shauf, and the bedroom musings of London’s Puma Blue, pickings have been slim in recent years for watchers of the genre. Newcomers at the local level have really struggled to cut through when there is such exceptional talent to be compared to. Despite this, by shining a light on the genre’s recent history, as well as what precedes it, Spang Sisters do precisely that. Genre-Omnivorous, peddling whimsy and wit beside Mariana-trench-deep referential ability, it’s exciting to see a niche begin to get carved out in the monolith of Jangle Pop.
Now a couple of releases into their debut album cycle, Spang Sisters mode of address and wry sense of humour distinguishes them from a saturated field of contemporaries. The first single, Eddie Murphy, is a rich RnB slowjam blushing with harmonies and composed of sections that rush together and intertwine like separated lovers. Following that, The Ballad of Joyce Vincent, recounts the true story of the titular character who was found dead in her London flat where she’d lain for two years, undiscovered. The duo temper the tragedy with deft lyrical whimsy and a fitting, detached sense of calm, appropriately transposing it into something less dramatic and all the more useful and affirming for it — A welcome reprieve from the dull fetishisation of horrific ends-to-life that true-crime retellings in music often slip into. Both these singles feel apt for their moment, highlighting themes of stagnation and yearning, the two most substantial meals any of us have had to dig into over the past year.
Jenny, the latest release at time of writing, dummies soulful tenderness from it’s first syllable. It’s smooth outer shell quickly crumbles as the boys take a hatchet to a pretentious acquaintance whose personality is the sum of easily-won familial privilege. Their recounting of Jenny’s second-hand opinions and vacuous experiences paint a portrait of a person bursting with things to say but nothing worth listening to — The eye-rolls are audibly deep.
In the main it’s a break from the duo’s form. Standing apart from any DeMarcoisms that reared their head on previous releases, hinting at a defiance of templature and a bit more depth and daring than we’re used to out of all except the major players in the scene. By hanging a lascivious guitar solo off the track’s midsection, there’s a notable excess juxtaposed against the lofi production’s restraint. Details, like being coasted out of that same solo on a steadily descending guitar slide, provide a grounding influence puncturing the elation — almost as if clearing the room in anticipation of the subject’s return in the next section. Spang compare Jenny’s potency in faux-serenade form with “a wet match box / a cold cup of tea / a sisyphean labour.” the similes, as envenomed as anything Ian Drury wrote, aptly describe encounters with acquaintances whose conversational gambits for intrigue arouse nothing and go nowhere. It’s here that, in spirit, the vocal delivery on Jenny isn’t a million miles from a caricature of Chocolate Chip-era Isaac Hayes (if he was transplanted and employed as a drunk and iresome crooner at a social club). I caught up with Jules and Rachid over email in February to lift the hood on their recording, writing and influences.
Hi Rachid, Jules. Easy one to start; How’s your day been? What did you have for Breakfast?
Rachid: Hey there! My day has been good. And for breakfast I ate two eggs fried in browned butter with some vine ripened tomatoes, served on a plate of blue and white china.
Jules: Ditto on the good quality of the day. I prepared some turkish lentil soup for me and my boys, always a yummy and cheap option during the week.
Gotta keep the troops fed! I understand you’ve converted your living room into a studio. Has that had any effect on you as collaborating musicians?
R: Yeah, up until recently we haven’t really had the right space to compose together.
J: If you can call a Mackie mixer and a few microphones a studio then I suppose we’ve always lived in one. But this setup is nice cos we’ve got a sea view and the street noise lets us get away with our own racket. Home recording is invariably born out of necessity but it's also great to be able to jump straight into it without even having to put trousers on. The conflation of a living and recording space has never really been a problem for us. Not to mention the fact that it allows us to fully indulge our perfectionist tendencies.
Perfectionist Brian Wilson famously filled his living room recording studio with sand so his feet would be more comfortable at the piano. Do you have any non-musical rituals that surround recording?
R: We don't really have any rituals that we adhere to before recording. We'll usually make a pot of extra strength coffee, dim the lights, and growl at each other.
So, on Jenny: Who recorded what?
Jules: I recorded most of the parts but had resident cool guys Joel on the bass, Charlie on the ‘bone and Albert on the drums. We found a Belarussian guy on Fiverr called swingydizz to record some flute, if you listen carefully you can hear him right at the end.
That’s a fun addition. Especially in a world where you might have just as easily played it in on a midi keyboard yourself. Is that organicism important to you?
J: Definitely, although Fiverr can be a bit of a rabbit hole. Before you know it you’ve blown 100 quid on flute solos and don’t like any of them, though luckily Rachid is there to curb those excesses.
Outside of those we already know about who’ve been your greatest helpers with your current project? Are there any contributors people might not know about?
R: Our friend Johnny (of Speedboat) mixed much of our forthcoming album. We have a tight-knit collective of friends and musicians who, given the current circumstances, are more than available to lend their helping hands on the instruments we suck at.
Are any of those same friends and musicians the ones you live with now?
J: The very same! Gradually over time it seems like we’ve narrowed the scope of our friendships down to where now our social/domestic lives and music are fully intertwined.
You’ve mentioned in past interviews that you’re big Motown and soul fans, and it really shines through on the recordings - if you had to direct your fans towards three essential tracks of that era, which might you pick?
R: In terms of Motown, I think we both agree that the “What’s Going On?” album is one of the greatest musical achievements of the last century. Bob James and Esther Phillips are also big loves of ours.
J: Ooh what’s that one by Papa Bear & His Cubs, “Sweetest Thing on This Side of Heaven”, it’s so lovely.
Do you ever refer to Jules’ lentil-soup guzzling boys as your Cubs?
J: Cubs is far too endearing of a term to refer to those animals.
I see you using lots of characters and vignettes as subject matter way more often than inserting yourselves into the songs; What informed taking that angle?
R: I think for some artists it is easier to reflect through the conduit of a different person or something banal such as the editor of your favourite crossword or a cooking show host (These examples will make sense upon our forthcoming release). In fact, without realising it at the time, every song on the new album is about a real person. It can be liberating to externalise your feelings onto someone else.
Who inspired Jenny? She sounds like a blowhard, so maybe giving fans some kind of warning might be a public service.
R: We wanted to write in the vein of Lou Reed’s Balzacian songs of snarling resentment and pity. The subject of the song was inspired by a girl we knew for a brief moment who was born into artistic nobility and had a lot of friends in high places. We’ll leave the identity of the person anonymous - never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
Ever think about what would happen if Jenny ended up in the audience one day?
R: I often do wonder whether she's heard it but I think we did a good enough job of obfuscating her true identity. In any case, the song isn't necessarily about a single person - although it was inspired by one - it is about that part of all of us that yearns to be accepted but seldom is.
Are there any lessons listeners could learn from Jenny?
R: Don’t go mistaking paradise for that home across the road.
I think that's a nice Bob Dylan easter egg to end on. In 4 words, sum up what listeners might expect from the next release.
All fillaz, no killaz
Spang Sister’s self-titled debut album is out now.
Feature by - Louie Hassett