The Acorn

Full-disclosure: Rolf and I have spooned. That’s a lie, but I did see a bunch of him through the blur of harrowing hailsleet that we current and former Ottawa residents call “air.” Guitarist Jeff Debutte has been on dates with a bunch of my friends. That’s probably also a lie. Drummer Jeffrey Malecki and I shared a TA office that he secretly smoked in and he once left a bit of coffee in the bottom of a mug there so long that it became one of the more successful purveyors of literary and critical theory in our MA program. Correcting for the obvious contingencies of history and subjectivity, that is absolutely, 100%, no-takesies-backsies, true.

I caught up with Rolf Klausener, the Acorn frontman and professional nice guy, before the band’s Canadian Music Week show at Toronto’s Horseshoe Tavern. He dished his band’s recent touring adventures, the media industrial complex, and Glory Hope Mountain, their full-length debut for Paperbag Records. Rolf wrote the album about his mother, Gloria Esperanza Montoya; the title is a loose translation of her name and the LP chronicles Montoya’s life growing up in Honduras before emigrating to Montreal in the 1970s.

With such past kinship and such a kick-ass show ahead of me, would I be able to maintain the hard-nosed journalistic edge necessary to ask the tough questions that every fan of snowed-in Canadian art-folk needs to know? You decide:

David Ritter (CMG): So you guys just got back from New York City. How was that?

RK: I was really terrified about crossing the border and getting stopped for five hours. We took every precaution, being the safe band that we are, and we had no trouble. The shows were about as wonderful as you could hope for for your first time in the United States. Brooklyn and New York were sold out I think due in no small part to Bowerbirds and Phosphorescent who we opened for. At Maxwell’s there were about 14 people and in Hoboken—in Hoboken, sorry. They corrected me on stage. I said Hoboken and they said yelled “IT’S HOBOKEN”—the bill was really interesting and varied…It was amazing to finally head out to the States; it totally demystified the whole process. Now going to Chicago tomorrow will be just like pulling into a club in Hamilton, or something. It’s nice to eliminate that border issue and realize that it’s just one big continent.

CMG: I wanted to ask why you waited so long to go down. You guys have been doing a lot of touring but this was your first time down there.

RK: It’s not like we were selling out clubs across Canada, and it was like “alright, now we’ve tapped the Canadian market, let’s head down to the States!” It was nothing like that at all. We’ve been slowly building to it; we’d just heard so many horror stories so when we finally did start thinking about it, which was around the same time that we hooked up with Paperbag [Records], we thought that if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right and wait ‘till the new album comes out. Maybe we’re too cautious? I don’t know.

CMG: I’m interested in how the local scene in Ottawa seems so important to you. You seem to not only reflect that in your music but also the way in the press you’re often talking about other Kelp [Ed: a record label in Ottawa and Toronto Rolf helped to run] bands or other Ottawa artists as big influences rather than bands featured in Spin magazine. How does it feel to come from that very local scene and be like a band that was very local and now to be out perhaps in a more geographically wide sense? Does that feel different? Or does that feel like same old, same old?

RK: I honestly never, ever think about that. But I do kind of have this selfish hope that maybe when I do an interview and talk about Snailhouse or I talk about Andy Swan that maybe some random person in the United States or something will listen to one of those records and fall in love with it as much as I have. It has nothing to do with Ottawa in particular; it just happens to be the people that are closest to me. They’re part of my tribe, if you will, and I would love if more people knew about them. It’s a totally selfish way for me to promote my friends, but with good cause. I love their music and they influenced me just as much as Bob Dylan or the Beatles or whoever.

I was a total late bloomer and when I was coming into understanding what independent music was all about—the idea of just kind of carving out your own thing and creating art for art’s sake—I was surrounded by a lot of fantastic local musicians. They were showing me that anyone can make music, and I mean this sounds like the same old thing…but, if there’s anyone who actually cares about us in Ottawa as an “Ottawa band” and are proud of us that we’re going out, then that’s amazing. When I was growing up, there was nothing that I wanted more than for Kepler and Snailhouse and Weights and Measures and the Wooden Stars and all these great bands from Ottawa to be on par with anything else that I read about in Pitchfork or Cokemachineglow or whatever.

It feels now as I do more and more interviews and I get to see how this whole media industrial complex works…that it really is a machine. As much as indie culture has penetrated into the world and as much as there are blogs and all this stuff, there’s still a process and there’s still a code and there’s still a way of traipsing through this forest without stepping on a landmine. It’s disturbing to see how it penetrates even the most independent cultures. Even blogs—nothing as big as Cokemachineglow—with tiny little blogs, you’ll see these kids who are 19 years old emailing bands, and their emails read like a form letter for a government job. It terrifies me. It’s much more rare nowadays that I speak with someone who’s truly enthusiastic about music and has no clue what buzz is, or that I speak to someone who’s just genuinely a huge music fan.

You know, I have this little folder. A secret folder. This is totally narcissistic, but I have this tiny little folder in my email that I keep, and it’s just for these out-of-the-blue emails that I get from friends or musical peers or people who just find my email address and email me and say something truly sincere about music. It might not even be about us. It could be something we inspired them to do or might just be them wanting to connect with another musician and… I love going through that folder and reading those thoughts, because it really doesn’t feel like the world of music is as sincere as I thought it would be once I started playing more and touring more.

CMG: So…you’ve had bad interviews?

RK: Oh fuck yeah. [Both laugh] Oh my God. To be honest, I think maybe the folks weren’t completely tapped and exhausted and weren’t trying to conduct 30 interviews a week and living the fast-paced life that it seems like everyone is living in every city in the world, then they would probably be inspired to come up with some pretty interesting questions. They would probably spend a few hours listening to a record and then not rehash things that were in a press release that was sent to them by a publicist. I can’t even believe I’m speaking in these terms and using these words, but it’s true.

I would give up all the—not that we’ve had a truckload of publicity…we’ve had some great publicity for sure, but I would give up all the weird little interviews that I’ve done where people just basically rehash our press release for—you know, I can count on one hand the few really, really good interviews that I’ve done. It’s rare, but you relish those interviews because you know that you’re talking to another manic music fan. I’m this totally nerdy obsessive music fan and so when I get to talk to nerdy obsessive music fans I guess that’s when I’m happy.

CMG: [Laughs] Well, I wanted to get into the album. I feel like in indie in the past 10 years there’s been this series of attempts to connect with certain sorts of older musical traditions. We’ve had Neutral Milk Hotel and Beirut and now Vampire Weekend has come out. How do you feel that you guys relate, if at all, to that tradition or thread in popular indie?

RK: I think it’s a great tradition, and I think it’s really old and I think it’s just as valid as the Ramones picking up their guitars in the 1970s and thinking they could be a ‘50s rock band. When George Harrison heard Ravi Shankar for the first time it blew his mind and he said, “I want to use a Sitar. I want to get into this music I’ve never heard before.” And I think that’s what I was interested in when we did this record. I think I was just one of those musicians who got bored with two guitars and bass and drums and became interested in exploring other options. Just because we had a band that was two guitars and bass and drums didn’t mean that we had to do that kind of record. Everybody in the band is really flexible and interested in experimenting and working beyond their comfort zone.

Right now there seems to be a bit of attention surrounding Africa. It seems like people are latching onto either the rhythms or the freeness of some of the West African guitar styles from the ‘70s. It seems like people tap into things all the time; I’m sure any day now there’s going to be a band that sounds just like White Snake and it’ll be like rehashing hair metal. I mean, the Darkness tried. There’s going to be a second wave, I’m sure.

I like talking about it because I think it’s a completely valid form of re-invention. We were really conscious with this record that we didn’t want to do a Graceland…we just didn’t have the cultural bass. It would’ve been akin to that derivative afro-pop sit from the ’80s like Johnny Clegg and Savuka. We’re not from Honduras. I’m not from Honduras; my mom is but that doesn’t mean anything. I was simply interested in trying to do something different. The only challenge is to try to do it respectfully and tastefully, not just be like, “Oh yeah I heard this Fela Kuti album. It was awesome! It blew my mind so we all got stoned and just played these wacky West African guitar lines for four hours.” That, I’m not interested in.

CMG: When I read some other interviews, it seems like during the process there was some anxiety about that.

RK: It’s ‘cause we’re so paranoid and self-conscious. It’s ‘cause we’re so self-aware and can’t just let go. Yeah, God…there was a fear of that.

CMG: Is there some kind of dead space where certain elements are pushed to the forefront and suddenly you’re in a “world music” space? Is there some kind of black hole that is always out there and keeps you up at night?

RK: Uh… is there a black hole in space where…?

CMG: I mean, there’s this negative stereotype of “world music.” Did that form part of the anxiety surrounding the project?

RK: Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah. There’s lots of quote-unquote “world music” albums that I love. I mean, I love Buena Vista Social Club! I love that record. I looove that record so much. Everything about it. The way it was recorded, the way it was played, executed, everything. And if people want to put that tag on it then I think that’s completely valid in some ways. Maybe songs like “Flood pt. 1” or “Crooked Legs” apply. But I think most of the record doesn’t really fall into that category. Songs like “Hold Your Breath” or “Antennae” are about as straight-up pop songs as you’re gonna get. I was aware that there was going to be some—it’s really easy to latch on to the thesis of the album and just kind of go “this is a world music record.” If people connect with that and make some kind of distinction and maybe explore some music from Honduras or something then that’s great. I think if they like the record that’s even more important.

CMG: Also, getting into the Garifuna music was also sort of a secondary aspect of the project that came along later. So maybe it’s not as directly about that as some other records that come along.

RK: For sure. Yeah. It was definitely secondary in that I was just trying to learn a little more about my Mom’s culture and then I found this music that really I connected with. It was very serendipitous and natural. I’m happy that we took so long to write and record the record. I was really frustrated at times in the nine months leading up to recording that I wasn’t writing. When I look back on it I was just absorbing those influences and absorbing my Mom’s stories. I’m glad those little finds seeped into the music.

It’s something that I want to keep exploring. I don’t want to make a Glory Hope Mountain part two or anything like that, but there are definitely a lot of elements to those traditions that I really latched on to and that were copasetic with my approach to writing, my approach to music, and my thought on expression. There were so many moments when I was reading through some research papers on Garifuna music and culture where I thought, “wow, they’re talking about ceremonial burial rights and rituals in Honduras, but it somehow completely relates to my ideas on free expression.” It was neat to have those moments where I connected with the culture and it got me thinking globally. By that I mean, people all over the world just come to the same conclusions.

CMG: Do you think there’s a dovetailing between wanting to explore your mother’s story and wanting to explore the music of Honduras? Obviously they’re connected in that your mother’s from there, but are they both attempts to kind of access some kind of lost origins? Are they both attempts to connect with a past that…maybe you didn’t feel as connected to before and maybe you feel more connected with it now?

RK: To be honest, I was really just trying to connect with my mom, as sappy as that sounds. I’m sure there are probably a couple people who have read reviews of the record or done interviews with us who think that I visit my Mom five days a week and we have dinner all the time, but the truth is that my mother and I have never gotten along well in the past. When I was in high school and university, we fought all the time. I eventually had to move out when I was about twenty because we fought non-stop. There was a cultural divide, an educational divide, and a generational divide. We had trouble communicating. I was also young and petulant, and an ass. I couldn’t see my mother for the person that she was.

As I grew older, I started realizing how impatient I was and how I just never gave my mom a chance. She’s a brilliant woman, but never had the opportunity to go to post-secondary school, and grew up in a completely different social reality. When you’re young and ornery, you don’t always give people credit for the knowledge they acrue via their experience. It’s funny now, because her “street-smarts” are way more shrewd than my publically-funded North American education. She’s never worked the kind of job that I’ve had the opportunity to work, but she’s much better with money than I am…

I think when I decided to talk to her and record her story it was a way for me to sit my Mom down in a formal setting and get her just to talk about her life, and have us not talk about everyday things like me not paying my taxes and stuff. If the feds are reading this, I will this year, I promise!

CMG: And she’s got some jaw-dropping stories.

RK: Yeah. They were as melodramatic as an after-school special, as surreal and exuberant as anything you might read in a fairy tale, and as harrowing as anything you might read in a newspaper. I was amazed by the variety of stories and I was amazed by her ability to persevere through stuff that I don’t know if I would’ve had the ability to survive.

Mostly, I wanted to see the complete picture of my mother. When I suggested the idea and Howie said, “this would be a good idea; you should apply for a grant. This would be a neat way to record an album,” I think I went with it because I don’t think I had any other ideas as present in my head and it seemed like the most interesting. But once we got going I got cold feet because I really didn’t know how you’d make a pop record about this and approach it tastefully.

I guess the short answer is I just wanted to get to know my mom.

CMG: How do you like playing the record live?

RK: I love everything about playing this record live now, but it’s taken a while. I wish we were as good last fall when we toured with the Elliot Brood and the Sunparlour Players as we are now…though, I also kind of wish we didn’t have to bring so much fucking gear. My straight up artistic reaction to touring this way is to literally want to go pack to playing a guitar and drums and bass. [Laughs] I never really wanted touring to be this complicated.

In the end though, it’s wonderful that we get to play the variety of music that we do: rock songs, folk songs, and we get to have this expansive world as well. We have Keiko (Devaux, keyboards) and Sean (Weadick, percussion and everything else) touring with us all the time now. That rules. In addition to adding more variety of personalities in the band, it’s great to hear so much sound. It’s been amazing performing these songs live. What’s nice is that I definitely want to do them more justice. I don’t have that comfort zone yet where I feel like every song is completely hammered down. So there’s always that feeling, especially when we’re doing tapings for CBC or whatever, “Well, I hope this one goes alright! I don’t know!” Maybe the drums or percussion mic won’t work or maybe Keiko’s marimba won’t come through or maybe my guitar will fail or maybe one of the hundreds of instruments that we bring with us on tour will crap out.

CMG: The rest of the band contributes technically mostly as arrangers. Would you say that’s mostly true? But my impression is that when a song goes from your bedroom to the practice room it becomes massively re-imagined.

RK: In some ways. There were a bunch of songs on the record where I had a very clear idea of what I wanted and I recorded some pretty elaborate demos. What’s funny is that I tried so hard to get back to what those demos were. And I know that’s always the trap: you record an expansive demo and then you just want it to sound lo-fi; you want it to sound just as free as the demo sounded. It was painstaking to try to get back to that place. Maybe against better judgement there were times when I pushed us to try to get to those places. But the band is so weird. It’s such a strange group of people.

Jeffrey is this completely idiosyncratic drummer; he’s totally unpredictable.

CMG: He’s dealing with other percussionists now.

RK: Yeah. He’s dealing with Sean now, who’s coming into this relatively blind. Sean hasn’t written with us before.

The other members, especially Jeff and Howie, are just marvellous editors. They’re really good at listening to the song objectively and pointing out things that I might otherwise keep that really don’t need to be there. It’s a real shot to my ego sometimes but I’m so glad they’re there. They rein me in sometimes and sometimes they actually enable me to be more free than I might have been…especially Howie. He’s an unschooled musician. He’s really inspiring in how unconventional his approach is…but yeah, there are definitely some songs that did get reinvented a little bit.

CMG: Your first record is, if not personal, then an individual record. It’s a bedroom pop record that you recorded all by yourself. The new record is also intensely personal in that it’s about your mother, but sonically it’s such a big record, and so it kind of brings in all the things that have been happening in your stage show. Do you have a sense of how the band relates to your mother’s story? Are they just kind of playing another set of Acorn songs?

RK: I wonder about that sometimes. Jeff has talked about how he felt no connection to the songs at first but then when I started telling them the stories they connected more. To be honest, I don’t think about the stories when I’m playing the song ten times in a row over the course of a bunch of tours, but there are definitely times when I feel very close to the music and I hope that they do too.

CMG: So what’s next? Have you started thinking about the next record?

RK: I have started thinking about it; and only in the last few weeks—[Katie Stelmanis starts playing upstairs on stage] Awhhhhhh God I can’t…I have to see this. Oh shit. Seriously I…Oh my god. No no no. I’ll be quick. I’ve just been dying to see her live. Um…Holy shit. It sounds so good.

[rushing to finish the interview]

I started thinking about grammatical terms and how they relate to people. Like the term “false friends.” I keep thinking about that. “False cognates.” I keep thinking about that a lot. I don’t know if it’s going to be an EP or if it’s going to be a full length record, but I really want to do something simpler. I want to utilize the band as a live band and record with not as many overdubs, and I want it to be really loud.

CMG: Awesome.

[Rolf dashes off to see Stelmanis]