Darker My Love
Location: CA
Website: http://www.myspace.com/darkermylove
Bio: Let’s not fuck about here. It’s 2008. Some people say the world is coming to a close. The sun is getting hotter. Ice isn’t what ... (more)
it used to be. Irony is dead, and spring no longer exists.
Everyone everywhere is sick and tired of the rock and roll ruse. And, so, an authentic rock and roll outfit has its work cut out. On its sophomore release, 2, Darker My Love is sure as hell up for the task at hand. This is a band with a big engine. They paint on a titanic canvas. It’s a widescreen, 3D, posi-traction kind of scenario. They want to get you worked up and they want to take you somewhere. “Music is an escape,” explains drummer Andy Granelli.
This band has no choice but to do what they do: they are a gang and their weapons are musical prowess and artistic ambition. Words + music + feeling = what these five guys were put on earth to do.
Though they come from all over the U.S. – Andy and Tim Presley from the Bay Area, Jared Everett from Pennsylvania, Rob Barbato from Boston and Will Canzoneri from Mississippi – they all came up through the same portal: back room and basement shows, forgettable bands and passion they can’t shake. For one, it was 45-minute drives through rural Pennsylvania to some stenchy hellhole of a basement to see five local bands; for another it was cruising BART at 16 to get to Gilman Street in Berkeley to see Swingin’ Utters. Over in Boston, Rob was soaking up Grateful Dead, briefly trying on a jazz habit (“I fancied myself a jazz dude. And then realized I wasn’t.”). Five guys, four cities, one conclusion: they’d been infected by rock and roll.
Andy begins, “I bought a drum set in eighth grade and learned how to play… kind of.” “It was all for the emotion,” explains Tim, while Jared finishes, “It’s why we’re still here.”
Sitting with Darker My Love, you realize things are clear among them. They know who they are. And they know who they are not. They work hard. They finish each other’s sentences. They take direction when they know it’s needed. 2 was produced by Dave Cooley (Silversun Pickups, J Dilla) who Rob describes as “a good guide through this endeavor.” He adds, “It was a large scale record. He was really good at encouraging us and experimenting with different ideas.”
“We didn’t want to work with anybody,” reveals Jared. “We were used to doing it on our own. Without Dave the record wouldn’t have been made the same way.” Mixing duties were handled by Tony Hoffer (The Kooks, Air).
Enough talk. Let’s listen.
As the needle drops, “Northern Soul” sets the pace. This ride is going somewhere dark. You’re already on the train and you ain’t getting off. Next comes “Blue Day,” which pins and mounts you like a butterfly.
“Two Ways Out” is everything a great rock single ought to be: reaching, bright and –get this– hopeful. Rob explains: “I was in the hospital in LA with a 105º fever. I felt really alone. The band started driving to New York to play a show. Meanwhile, my cell phone was dead and I had a lot of time to think. It was a scary experience. You realize though, bad stuff does happen to you and a positive mental outlook can get you out of any situation. Even at your lowest moment.”
Tim finishes the thought: “You have to make peace with either one.”
“Even In Your Lightest Day” is an ode to day job dread. “Like, I’d rather be anywhere else than going through this door,” says Tim. The record persists with no relief. The more you hear, the more you feel. And Darker My Love is a band that you must feel. If you dig, you dig. If you don’t, you will. All you need is 45 minutes and six seconds. If you have headphones, use ‘em. If your stereo’s got a tachometer, all the better.
This is a band that doesn’t merely want your attention. It aims to do something with it. There ain’t no come ons, put ons, build ups or tear downs. They are not here to posit or pontificate. They are here to affect your now, your here, your is. Sometimes a rock and roll outfit is loved for saying what others find hard to say – the voice of the oppressed, the shit on. Darker My Love isn’t concerned with all that. They are here to take you away from all that thinking stuff.
This quintet sits in the cosmic chaparral on the astro chart of rock and roll. One notch to left is The Meters (you can feel this band in your fifth house). One notch to the right is a gathering of Wild Angels (the back of your skull is thrust into the headrest from the start). You want to reference all kinds of other bands, scenes, moments when talking DML. Go right ahead. But be sure you plot a steady course. Don’t talk about shimmering guitars and fuzz boxes or psychedelic nonsense. It’s too late for all that. I already told you irony is dead. There’s a siren screaming. Can you hear it?
“This record is a hitchhiker’s guide to getting through LA,” says Jared. The intensity in his eyes underlines the point.
“LA’s supposed to be this la-la land,” says Tim. “But it’s got some dark secrets.”
They go on to talk about the hope, the hype, the bleakness, the shrouded sadness dripping from the sky, apathetically melting in the caustic sunshine. The sadness in the eyes of the ones who got left behind: the actress-waitress, the bartender-writer, the singer-nanny, all waiting to lose the hyphen. “LA keeps you young, cos you’re always searching for something,” Tim explains. “You’re working toward this thing–but you could be 48 by the time it happens.”
Jared jumps in: “If it doesn’t come, that’s the sad part.”
But Rob reminds us there is hope. “This record is a manual to help you deal with daily existence.”
If you set out with that manual, trying to find the path of this band, make sure your checklist contains notes on the tribal vehemence of a kick drum pattern, the alluring purr of a violently overdriven Gibson bass, the manic concoction of black groove and hard white rock… and when you come upon that bridge deep in the forest you’d be correct to assume it bridges The Weeds and the Stone Roses. And if you cross it in either direction, it will take you to a new spot on the map, the soundtrack to which is the topic of this writing. And, lastly, please, by all means, make sure you correctly spell ‘clavinet’ and ‘Bernie Worrell.’
The album closes with its longest song, the paradoxically titled “Immediate Undertaking.” A NASA airlock designed to slowly bring earthly oxygen back to your system, readying your reentry to real life. The final six minutes of 2 drip by like an elegant, weightless eternity that begins to deliver you back to life. As you come to, you feel the clocks bend, you hear the light, and drink in the noise.
2 is done. You are in the heart of darkness. You feel the warmth of the sun. But the sun can’t burn the shadows off. You don’t even want it to. You feel good. You. Feel.
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