We Are Scientists - London, UK - Autumn 2005
By: Lauren Gallagher
'We Are Scientists is proud to present, 'The New York Times'!'
The far-reaching journalistic talents of New York's latest (again?) 'it' band, We Are Scientists are shouted from the rooftops by bassist Chris Cain, with the exception of one embarrassing publishing credit. 'We write the 'L.A. Times' too, but we're ashamed of that,' he quips.
Journalists, world-class scientists, ghost-writing authors of hit albums (including Bloc Party's 'Silent Alarm'), We Are Scientists are not just a band, more a storm to be contended with. In the course of a few rounds of happy hour drinks, the scientists deride a trendoid London band, U2, and Google. War has been declared. Let battle begin.
'We're playing with Towers of London, and we'll hopefully get in a fight,' comments drummer/vocalist Michael Tapper of their upcoming gigs with the poodle-hair Motley Crue wannabes. Clearly the band is confident in their feudal abilities.
'When they're walking around, they sort of look like a little pack of 60 year old women, right down to the f**king leggings,' adds Chris.
Lead vocalist and guitarist Keith Murray can't help himself: 'With their oversized hair, and then the white leggings, it's like a group of Pomeranians in leather.'
'That have their legs shaved!' interrupts Chris. The chuckles continue. A plot to burn off the Towers of London's precious locks brews. Chris's plan is to 'lure them into a room with a f'in candelabra: 'you gotta see the gothic décor in here.'
Yet Towers of London aren't the only band to suffer W.A.S.'s verbal scourge. Bono's signature wailing invades happy hour via the bar's video channel, at which point, Keith loses his cool.
'Guys, this is our next video. We'll be all moody on the bed...' he pouts, not unlike the man he mocks. 'Aww, Bono!' Keith cries, burying his head in his hands with sincere frustration, 'what a piece of shit,' he sighs. 'Oh, he's got so much to think about.' While Chris calls the video 'revolting,' Keith takes it a step further, declaring that U2 should be anonymous studio musicians, to save us all from watching their 'sanctimonious moping.' They chuckle heartily at the thought of parodying a U2 video.
The joking persists. These stateside boys are happy and a bit cocky, but they have their reasons. They have returned to the UK to not one, but two sold out shows at London's Barfly, after having performed in town less than a month ago. W.A.S.'s crowds dance and bounce inexhaustibly to the band's tight rhythms and jagged guitar, the fans belting out the infectious choruses at full volume, already. Somehow, W.A.S. quickly gathered a devoted following. Their buzz has been building heartily all summer, preceding the release of their timely album this October.
Their good fortune is not the only reason for the spirited conversation. A striking aura of harmony surrounds this trio, whose ricocheting banter renders these scientists winsome and charming. Should they be renamed, 'We Are A Scientist?' Speaking of, are any of them actually science-inclined?
'I collect bugs,' Michael says softly, with smug amusement. His fellow bandmates nod, and concur that Michael is a walking butterfly net, only 'stinkier,' thus they decide he is most like 'a walking piece of fly paper.'
Chris elaborates on his intimate relationship with the sciences:
'Me, I specialise in ballistics,' he says, his breath escaping officiously. Sliding his heavyweight metal-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, Chris continues with the air of authority known only to conceited professors and members of the CIA. 'That's trajectories, inertia, angles, items as they fly through air or space. Vacuums too, sure, it doesn't have to be air. You name it, even stuff through water. We've been studying that a lot lately for some of our weapons work, that's why missiles have been missing.'
Thank you, Chris, for the clarification and insight; we've all been wondering what's happened to 'our' misguided missiles. F**king hell.
Keith's affection for science is less specific, however. According to Chris, 'He's what we call a generalist; he can approach and comment on the rarely solved, most science-related problems.'
'With an uninformed mix of the scientific, the superstitious...' Keith interrupts.
'And the profane!' blurts Chris. 'It's light research,' he says with a flippant wave of the hand, 'it goes unused and unpublished, but he kills it every time. He's a popular scientist.'
Their research methods reach semi-narcissistic proportions when it comes to Google. Upon discovering that they were incorrectly dubbed by Google as a ' California-based band,' Chris was determined to rectify the horrific error. Although the band joined forces during university in Southern California, as residents of New York for four years, the band is far from being 'California-based.' Chris chased editors and sub-editors to no avail. According to his findings, if you edit for Google, then cease to be employed by Google, your work is, ironically, etched in stone. The editors who wrote W.A.S.'s one-line description have abandoned the Google empire, thus his request for a correction fell on deaf ears.
'Suffice it to say, we're majorly chagrined we are being labelled as a California band,' Chris sighs. The one thing they argue about tonight is whether or not they ever actually performed in Los Angeles.
'I think we only played L.A. like three times,' muses Chris.
Keith furrows his brows in dubious suspicion. 'Did we even play three times? Wait, We Are Scientists played a gig?' his voice cracks with disbelief.
'Yeah,' Chris says, his eyes performing the requisite 'foggy memory squint,' as he reaches into California past.
'What was that place that went out of business?' (Clearly a memorable gig) 'Was it Tom Tom's Cocoa Hut?'
'Leather Stall Hut,' Michael states flatly, his recollection crystal clear.
'Oooh,' Keith and Chris breathe, collectively. They both pause for a moment, before a flood of memories of now inconsequential incidents flow rapidly, and end in murmurs of girls and cars, things they seem to agree are best forgotten.
Today they are far from their California roots and even the NYC dives that spawned their current buzz. They have even 'written' hit albums prior to their debut, adding to their intrigue. Quoted elsewhere earlier this year as authors of Bloc Party's debut 'Silent Alarm,' W.A.S. continue to baffle/waffle their audience with some deliciously acerbic wit.
'Our strategy is to move forward at full f**king force with the lies and try to push them to the point of absurdity so people have to say two years from now: 'Oooooooh waaaaaaaait...they didn't write that album?' Chris joshes. By the sight of their knowing smirks at the end of the interview, there's more where this came from. We Are Scientists show no signs of muting their sarcasm, or sonic sorcery, anytime soon. And we wouldn't want them to.
Artists in this article: We Are Scientists