Secret Machines - London, UK - Summer 2005
By: Clara Burtenshaw
Best kept secrets have a habit of being discovered, whether they are sought out or stumbled upon; Texan rock trio the Secret Machines are no exception. Raised on (shamelessly classic) rock 'n' roll such as Led Zeppelin and Yes, brothers Ben and Brandon Curtis and drummer Josh Garza played parts in various Dallas bands before forming as a three-piece in 2000. During sound-check in preparation for their performance at Camden's Electric Ballroom, Secret Machines' guitarist and vocalist Ben explains to rockfeedback how their journey has been as weird and wonderful as the music they play, and reveals a shiny gold tooth in the process.
'Where we lived, you couldn't really progress as a band,' explains Ben of the move that would take them to New York City via Chicago, where they made their first recordings at a friend's studio.
Like The Beatles in Hamburg or Jimi Hendrix seducing London, new scenery found the band new fortune and the singer cites this move as the moment in which the trio really came together. Living a meagre existence practising and sleeping in the same room, the band cultivated their unique sound of belligerent power-house drums, ambient keyboards and multi-textured guitars.
And though speaking to the singer oft results in following a journey of long-winded sentences that lose their way (yet always bear good intent), thankfully, listening to the band is more of an epic adventure - but call their music prog at your peril. 'I think categorizing music with words, especially as it's happening, is weird for musicians. The music I've always liked has defied description. Now, it's easy to see how things like My Bloody Valentine, The Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev in the early nineties all had a similar sound, but at the time it was different and new, and the way they were connected wasn't quite so obvious. For me, we just play rock music, whatever you feel comfortable calling it. I'm a fan of some prog bands, but I don't think we sound like a prog band; we don't sound like Gong, or something like that.'
Supporting ... And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead and Explosions in the Sky at the Bowery Ballroom gave the bands on the triple bill leave to showcase some of the more interesting hammering to come from the central States, rejuvenating the re-emerging New York rock scene and offering an alternative to the drainpipe jean wearing bands. Secret Machines stole the show and it wasn't long before 679 (home of Mike Skinner and The Futureheads) took notice, as did the 'New York Times', claiming the 'Machines 'the city's best live band.'
'Moving to 679 was weird,' recalls Ben. 'I mean, there were a lot of things happening at the same time - we were talking to people there and talking to other people here. The time spent moving to 679 was part of this real influx of energy and momentum that ended up being the 'Now Here Is Nowhere' record (the outfit's debut LP). We made our decision on unanimous gut feeling, like a lot of things we do - we don't really talk or get really logical about it. Ultimately, it came down to our instinctive feeling; we really liked the people there and the music on the label.'
Band influences such as Pink Floyd and Hawkhind led to Jeff Blenkinsopp's involvement with the band and, as well as co-producing the album, he helped the band sculpt the sound and set it on record. 'We met him at his shop, which sells the electronic stuff and sound treatment equipment he designs and started working with him, building and designing gear. When we finished the record, we wanted some custom gear in the studio so we got him into the rehearsals to be there and to get vibes for sounds and ideas for building sound boxes. In a weird way, it was cool for us because we were able to create devices and sounds from nothing. I have to say the main impact Jeff Blenkinsopp had was to be around and say, 'You aren't stupid, you guys know what you're doing,' and giving us the confidence to believe in ourselves and that you don't have to listen to other people.'
Having such a technological wizard on board certainly helped the band go as far as they could, but it is the band's personalities, the way they play and their taste in sound that contributed the most. 'The sounds in the boxes that we built were ones we designed. We would play a guitar on a work bench and say 'a little more like this'; 'a little more like that' using vague references to sound, and Jeff gave us the means to explore the range of notes, I wouldn't do it another way.'
When asked how hard it is to translate a concept in one's head into something audible, Ben explains that his way of approaching music-making is different, and that, rather than imagining a sound that he wants to hear, it is the feeling, or effect of a sound, that drives him on.
'If I want something that makes me feel a certain way, then I can find that, without having a preconceived notion of what that sound actually is. There's something about music that has the capacity of bypassing the logical sense of your brain... for us, as a band every song has kind of been an effort to stay true to that, and not to reroute things logically. That said, there are specific ideas and concepts that go into songs with real deliberateness, but what comes out of it is more a reflection of whatever the listener brings to it, and I guess that sounds really cheesy and lame, but we have our heart and souls into the music and it's up to anyone else who's listening to decide what that means...'
A brief pause.
'I know I'm being really vague,' he states, laughing.
The meticulous precision of the pounding drums on stage betray another story as Ben is forced to change the subject and recalls the contemporary bands that inspire him, such as show-openers M83, Vim Duncan and various electro and techno outfits. Such a fondness for dance music and trance beats stood the band in good stead to tour the States with The Chemical Brothers, whose music was very different but whose stage-show ethos was inspirational:
'Watching them work the other night was really cool because they really do put on a show and all the mixing is really impressive. To put a rock band on before they played was unnecessary, as they didn't need to, but for them it was about putting on a show for people, and it made the evening more different than it would have been otherwise. The point of playing for me isn't about proving anything, because I don't really feel like I have anything to prove, but what I want to do is feel that in the performances there's an impact or some kind of residue with the audience that offers something that maybe they didn't think was possible with the band. Like the variety of bands we have supported: Spiritualised, Interpol, and Blonde Redhead, they all have different music, but we can go up in front of their audience and connect with them, that's kind of what we want to do.'
And touring has proven a combination of playing live and taking days off to go record in studios as the band continues writing their next record on the road. The trio have taken the tour as an opportunity to experiment sonically on stage, performing songs in skewed ways to find the best arrangement and charming their guinea-pig audiences in every city.
'Getting on with anyone in close quarters requires tact, respect and knowing each other's boundaries,' says Ben of co-habiting a bus with his brother and close friend for two months. 'You do get thin skinned and get your feelings hurt, but it's up to you how you carry that and how you behave. Playing music is what I really want to do and this is what you have to do to do it. If there's trouble and strife it can get really vindictive and passive aggressive. To look back and actually still be in this ten years from now would be an achievement in itself that sounds pretty good to me, that would be thrilling, to have that kind of longevity and actually look back on it at and actually enjoy it would be an achievement.'
If the band's more revered fans are anything to go by, such longevity may well be in their grasp, musical chameleon David Bowie enjoyed one gig in New York so much he went back for more, repeatedly. The band remains humble, however: 'It's an amazing thing to be able to have a conversation with David Bowie, cos I'm a huge fan and I have a lot of respect for him as a musician and as an Icon. Whether or not that gives me a sense of validation or makes me even more of a credible artist? I don't think so - to be able to have a conversation with a musician at that level is an honour, but it doesn't make me a musician of that level.'
Ben shrugs off hyperbolic comments suggesting that the band live are a psychedelic, cosmos-altering experience, but advises the first-time spectator not to have a pre-conceived notion of what's going to happen. Except, of course, that it's going to be a loud, bright, entertaining performance. Predictable.
'At the end of the day, it's a rock show, it's a rock band; there's nothing really that self-important about it.'
Later, as the band play, creating mood with musical metaphor, washing the audience in a haze of multi-coloured light, channelling the spirit of Eno and the mechanical drive of Krautrock like Le Dusseldorf and Neu, it becomes very obvious to all in the room that, contrary to Ben's belief, their music is important. The hyperbole is deserved, and we were entertained. It's a feat more could strive for these days.
Artists in this article: Secret Machines