Interview with Jenny Tatone on neumu.net

ERASE ERRATA'S POST-RIOT GRRRL, POST-FEMINIST POST-PUNK // The Bay Area quartet creates a new kind of noise.
Interview Jenny Tatone Photography Jim McGinnis

"This is the happiest band I've ever been in, like totally dancing and fun." — Bianca Sparta
PORTLAND, Ore. - Saturday, October 16, 2001

No raindrops splat down on Portland tonight. A crisp fall breeze blows on the unusually dry September evening. It's not quite dark yet — faceless warehouses and uneven loading docks slump along the cracked streets of the East Side's "Produce Row" industrial neighborhood.

Cut in fractions by train tracks, the area is vaguely ghostly. But, every so often, it flashes images of what's sure to come: trendy coffeehouses, art galleries and record stores. One such image has taken shape in the form of B Complex — the area's first live music venue — a minimalist, art-deco joint Erase Errata will play tonight.

After I'm quickly introduced to the Bay Area-based jagged, post-punk four-piece, we're already out the back door of B Complex, walking swiftly toward Nicholas — the small Greek restaurant about five blocks away where I'll soon interview them — stopping occasionally so Neumu "Depth of Field" editor Jim McGinnis can photograph the band.

"Take a picture of us in front of this van — we'll pretend like it's ours," laughs Jenny Hoysten, Erase Errata's lead singer and trumpeter, standing proudly in front of a luxuriously large, silver-and-black Econoline.

The others smirk, shuffle over to the van and stand tall with gravely serious expressions — the kind that could burst into laughter at any second — as their picture is taken.

Phew, I think to myself, they have a sense of humor — one that will resonate throughout our conversation at the quaint, golden-accented restaurant. Conversing with the women of Erase Errata feels more like hanging out with buddies than conducting an interview; the hour or so spent at the plate-covered table sees playful, often sarcastic exchanges among the four girls — or, more appropriately, friends. From behind the pizza-sized raised trays of steaming pita bread and various delicacies, I see four street-hip, punk-inspired girls who are just starting out, who are nervous and cynical, intelligent and reserved — and, tonight, most of all, just plain hungry. Seriously, most of all they're real and not about to pretend to be anything but. Sit down and talk with them, and you'll find they're not much unlike you or me. That is, if you or I were able to make music as unique as that on their brilliantly broken debut album, Other Animals.

Recorded at X Pulsar Studios in Owosso, Mich., by Colin Dupuis and Norm Druce, whom Hoysten calls "amazing geniuses ... who aren't into post-production and do everything with microphones," the band's first full-length is frantic, screeching and edgy. Hoysten's singing hiccups and pierces atop harsh, repetitive rhythm lines, spastic melodies and raw, thumping beats. Critics have heard the influence of the Gang Of Four, LiLiPut, The Need and Captain Beefheart, among others, in their sound. Erase Errata make fiercely intricate music that demands attention the way fingernails scraped across a chalkboard demand it — you can't help but be consumed by this gripping, abrasive sound. Live, they're even more powerful.

Songs by Erase Errata are often the result of sporadic, improvisation while jamming at practice sessions. For example, lyrics are often just words that popped into Jenny's mind while singing -- similar to hip-hop freestyling. They call their approach to writing "ready-set-go." The music is created spontaneously -- whatever the group feels at the moment; thus ready-set-go and play.

They're quick. I don't even see them take their places onstage late that night at the Clockwork Orange-flavored, tri-level club, which reminds you of its warehouse origin with its enormous square brick pillars scattered throughout. Tied incorrectly with its knot off-center, the wrinkled, fat suit-tie Hoysten wears atop her old white T-shirt stands out against the casualness of her Dickies and sneakers. Maybe it's only for fun, for flair, but the tie — not thrown carelessly around her neck until just before the show, nor present at the restaurant — seems to bring Hoysten to another place where exhaustive realities fade out and artistic passions set in.

Her moves — jerky, intense and awkward — show a performer who is not slyly charming the crowd with rhythmic grace, but one who, lost in Erase Errata's chaotic, jagged noise and biting words, rouses the onlookers through her own distraught sense of absence. With that "I'm tormented and lost by my own consciousness" artsy disposition, she paces about the stage jerking her entire body like a rag doll to the driving, spastic beats. With her thin, black, greasy chin-length hair lying flat and uncombed — its pointy edges barely reach the rims of her thick black glasses — she occasionally picks up her trumpet and blows a few pouty toots before taking a break as if drained.

Robust and broad-shouldered, bassist Ellie Erickson stands to Hoysten's right, letting her head of mid-length, shiny, straight blonde hair fall, slamming back and forth to the music with precision. On guitar, Sara Jaffe, with short, brown, wavy locks bouncing from her nodding head, stands wide-legged to Hoysten's left. As she keeps her head down and her eyes on her guitar almost consistently throughout, Jaffe's frail thinness shows through a baggy, plaid button-up shirt that's tucked into loose jeans. Her long thin fingers move with speed and skill as she plays harsh, cutting riffs and impressively intricate solos.

With short, blonde, spiky hair, oversized, black, thick-rimmed glasses, a scooped-neck, fitted T-shirt, and muscular arms wrapped with colorful wristbands, Bianca Sparta sits staunchly behind the drum kit, wearing oversized headphones and unusually close to front stage, pounding out abrasive but dance-y beats.

Onstage, they are a potent, mighty unit, shattering the conventions of rock 'n' roll — they become something more than the giggling friends I hung with at the restaurant. Without seeing the latter, I might not have been able to comprehend the former.

PORTLAND, Ore. - Saturday, October 16, 2001

No raindrops splat down on Portland tonight. A crisp fall breeze blows on the unusually dry September evening. It's not quite dark yet — faceless warehouses and uneven loading docks slump along the cracked streets of the East Side's "Produce Row" industrial neighborhood.

Cut in fractions by train tracks, the area is vaguely ghostly. But, every so often, it flashes images of what's sure to come: trendy coffeehouses, art galleries and record stores. One such image has taken shape in the form of B Complex — the area's first live music venue — a minimalist, art-deco joint Erase Errata will play tonight.

After I'm quickly introduced to the Bay Area-based jagged, post-punk four-piece, we're already out the back door of B Complex, walking swiftly toward Nicholas — the small Greek restaurant about five blocks away where I'll soon interview them — stopping occasionally so Neumu "Depth of Field" editor Jim McGinnis can photograph the band.

"Take a picture of us in front of this van — we'll pretend like it's ours," laughs Jenny Hoysten, Erase Errata's lead singer and trumpeter, standing proudly in front of a luxuriously large, silver-and-black Econoline.

The others smirk, shuffle over to the van and stand tall with gravely serious expressions — the kind that could burst into laughter at any second — as their picture is taken.

Phew, I think to myself, they have a sense of humor — one that will resonate throughout our conversation at the quaint, golden-accented restaurant. Conversing with the women of Erase Errata feels more like hanging out with buddies than conducting an interview; the hour or so spent at the plate-covered table sees playful, often sarcastic exchanges among the four girls — or, more appropriately, friends. From behind the pizza-sized raised trays of steaming pita bread and various delicacies, I see four street-hip, punk-inspired girls who are just starting out, who are nervous and cynical, intelligent and reserved — and, tonight, most of all, just plain hungry. Seriously, most of all they're real and not about to pretend to be anything but. Sit down and talk with them, and you'll find they're not much unlike you or me. That is, if you or I were able to make music as unique as that on their brilliantly broken debut album, Other Animals.

Recorded at X Pulsar Studios in Owosso, Mich., by Colin Dupuis and Norm Druce, whom Hoysten calls "amazing geniuses ... who aren't into post-production and do everything with microphones," the band's first full-length is frantic, screeching and edgy. Hoysten's singing hiccups and pierces atop harsh, repetitive rhythm lines, spastic melodies and raw, thumping beats. Critics have heard the influence of the Gang Of Four, LiLiPut, The Need and Captain Beefheart, among others, in their sound. Erase Errata make fiercely intricate music that demands attention the way fingernails scraped across a chalkboard demand it — you can't help but be consumed by this gripping, abrasive sound. Live, they're even more powerful.

Songs by Erase Errata are often the result of sporadic, improvisation while jamming at practice sessions. For example, lyrics are often just words that popped into Jenny's mind while singing -- similar to hip-hop freestyling. They call their approach to writing "ready-set-go." The music is created spontaneously -- whatever the group feels at the moment; thus ready-set-go and play.

They're quick. I don't even see them take their places onstage late that night at the Clockwork Orange-flavored, tri-level club, which reminds you of its warehouse origin with its enormous square brick pillars scattered throughout. Tied incorrectly with its knot off-center, the wrinkled, fat suit-tie Hoysten wears atop her old white T-shirt stands out against the casualness of her Dickies and sneakers. Maybe it's only for fun, for flair, but the tie — not thrown carelessly around her neck until just before the show, nor present at the restaurant — seems to bring Hoysten to another place where exhaustive realities fade out and artistic passions set in.

Her moves — jerky, intense and awkward — show a performer who is not slyly charming the crowd with rhythmic grace, but one who, lost in Erase Errata's chaotic, jagged noise and biting words, rouses the onlookers through her own distraught sense of absence. With that "I'm tormented and lost by my own consciousness" artsy disposition, she paces about the stage jerking her entire body like a rag doll to the driving, spastic beats. With her thin, black, greasy chin-length hair lying flat and uncombed — its pointy edges barely reach the rims of her thick black glasses — she occasionally picks up her trumpet and blows a few pouty toots before taking a break as if drained.

Robust and broad-shouldered, bassist Ellie Erickson stands to Hoysten's right, letting her head of mid-length, shiny, straight blonde hair fall, slamming back and forth to the music with precision. On guitar, Sara Jaffe, with short, brown, wavy locks bouncing from her nodding head, stands wide-legged to Hoysten's left. As she keeps her head down and her eyes on her guitar almost consistently throughout, Jaffe's frail thinness shows through a baggy, plaid button-up shirt that's tucked into loose jeans. Her long thin fingers move with speed and skill as she plays harsh, cutting riffs and impressively intricate solos.

With short, blonde, spiky hair, oversized, black, thick-rimmed glasses, a scooped-neck, fitted T-shirt, and muscular arms wrapped with colorful wristbands, Bianca Sparta sits staunchly behind the drum kit, wearing oversized headphones and unusually close to front stage, pounding out abrasive but dance-y beats.

Onstage, they are a potent, mighty unit, shattering the conventions of rock 'n' roll — they become something more than the giggling friends I hung with at the restaurant. Without seeing the latter, I might not have been able to comprehend the former.

JennyTatone: In your music, I feel anger, confusion and resentment — as if it has already been scarred and broken. Are any of these emotions involved in making it?

Bianca Sparta (drums): I don't think there's any anger — do you mean in the voice or in the music?

Tatone: In the music.

Jenny Hoysten (lead vocals/trumpet): I think we're all just edgy.

Sparta: This is the happiest band I've ever been in, like totally dancing and fun.

Ellie Erickson (bass): I think it's more just frantic.

Sara Jaffe (guitar): I think it's a lot of us just processing what's going on around us, and that's how it comes out, like it's art. It's all over the place or frantic because that's how we process that energy.

Hoysten: I think that high energy and aggression get blurred sometimes. I think a lot of people might see us that way, but that's not necessarily where we're coming from.

Tatone: Is it anger in a punk-rock sense?

Hoysten: Yeah, it goes back to more observatory — like the music is more of a regurgitation than an emotional response.

Erickson: But I think, at the same time, it's an outlet definitely. If I'm feeling frustrated, I can't wait to go play some loud music. But I don't think it's definitely in the punk-rock tradition. I don't think it's about "I hate the world! Let's play minor chords!"

Tatone: What inspired you to form Erase Errata?

Hoysten: We were all friends just hanging out.

Tatone: How long have you all been playing?

Hoysten: Together?

Tatone: Your instruments.

Erickson: Forever.

Sparta: I just recently learned.

Tatone: Self-taught?

Sparta: Yeah.

Jaffe: One of the reasons I moved to San Francisco was because I knew there was a good music scene, and I did want to play in a band that was sort of traditional.

Tatone: I meant to ask you about San Francisco — do you consider it a good place to be as far as playing music?

Jaffe: I think it's a great place.

Hoysten: There's so much creative energy. There's definitely constraints put on by outside forces — like, practice space is so expensive. Or clubs shutting down. But for creative arts people, it's great, and not like New York, where people have creative ideas but everyone is so nose-to-the-grindstone about working they can't get them out. I think there's a really good balance of energy [in San Francisco].

Tatone: Tell me about writing and recording Other Animals.

Hoysten: We were pretty concentrated-ly writing for this record. We already had a bunch of songs recorded, and then we knew we wanted to make the record. So we decided we were gonna record in March or April. We wrote them all in three months, except there were a couple that had already been around for awhile. But, yeah, it was a concentrated effort where we sat down and we were like, "OK, let's get this together."

Tatone: You all write the songs together?

Hoysten: Yeah, we do everything together. Sometimes someone has an idea that they bring, but a lot of the time it's like we're at practice and it comes from that.

Tatone: I was reading about the whole ready-set-go approach to songwriting you use — is that exaggerated at all?

Hoysten: No, it's not exaggerated at all.

Sparta: Some of our best stuff comes from that.

Hoysten: We all have the technicalities down, and so we're all pretty comfortable just starting out like that.

Tatone: What music did you listen to growing up?

Jaffe: I listened to a lot of punk rock. You want names? I've always been a huge Misfits fan....

Erickson: My first concert was Ah-Ha [laughing]. I think I listened to oldies, mostly, in junior high, and then I figured out there was a punk scene in Nebraska so I listened to a lot of local music.

Hoysten: There was always a lot of music in my family. My dad played piano and he was always into old standards and show tunes and that kind of thing. So, that was my really young sort of stuff. I always listened to the radio even if it was just Top 40 or whatever. Then I got more into like indie or college-radio scenes and started learning about more new bands — kind of coming from a really wide range and then narrowing in more and more along the way.

Tatone: You have a very distinct sound, and it is obviously all your own, but could you cite some people you'd call influences, or who've had an important impact on you musically?

Sparta: I think oldies radio totally inspired me to play drums in a certain way.

Tatone: Like how?

Sparta: Ripping beats off from oldies songs [laughing]. Like the simplicity of the steadiness of the beats. The beats aren't necessarily simple, but we definitely study the old songs.

Erickson: I took a lot of experimental music classes, so that opened my mind up as to how you can use an instrument and that you don't have to play it in the traditional way.

Jaffe: I think we all listen to so many different kinds of music that we take in all of it. And it's a process of everything from the most random noisy stuff to the stuff we listened to growing up — it kind of all comes out.

Tatone: I don't know if you saw the article that was in The Mercury [a Portland alternative weekly] in town, where they were calling you no wave. I wanted to know if you agreed with that, or saw that as fitting?

Hoysten: They just never bothered to listen and see. At the very beginning, I think we had problems with that. There are certain sounds we have, for sure, that are reminiscent of no wave, but there are a lot of other different sounds too.

Sparta: People are really anxious to put some sort of label on our music like, "Oh, they're girls who play rock music." Anything that they can think of that's similar, they automatically stick us in a genre. None of them are really that accurate.

Jaffe: We're definitely not eager to pigeonhole ourselves in any way..

Hoysten: I don't think anybody is [to Jaffe].

Jaffe: I think some people might be — more marketing-oriented sorts of bands.

Hoysten: Oh yeah, those kind of bands [laughing].

Jaffe: That corner of the adult contemporary market [laughing].

Tatone: You've also been called post-riot grrrl. Do you feel, in any way, associated with that movement in music, or affected by it, connected to it?

Hoysten: It definitely had a big impact on me when I was like 16, 17 years old.

Sparta: I wasn't really affected by that. I was in Texas, so that wasn't really going on. I missed that whole thing, but all the riot grrrl musicians are still around.

Erickson: We play with them a lot.

Sparta: And we play with them, so we have a semi-community with them in a certain way, but it's not like we all identify with them.

Tatone: Is there any sort of feminist thought in the music you make?

Jaffe: Sure, not necessarily in terms of an agenda.

Erickson: I wouldn't say that anything really has an agenda necessarily. We're empowered women [laughing].

Jaffe: I really think there are a lot of girls out there playing, you know, fucked-up guitar or whatever, and that makes me feel...

Sparta: There are so many girls playing music, I think it's sort of funny how there's such an emphasis on...

Erickson: Do people forget — like from band to band — "Oh my God! All these girls are playing music too!" [laughing].

Hoysten: It's the scene we're in, 'cause we're around that stuff all the time. I've lived places where I've been like, "There's no girl bands in this town. I have to form a band just so that there's not just a bunch of dudes playing music." I mean, we're definitely privileged to be in a scene where that's not the case, so I think it's easier for us.

Tatone: Has there been any discrimination, then, that you've felt, being musicians, being girls?

Sparta: Sound guys — yeah — especially during sound checks.

Tatone: What do they do?

Sparta: Think we don't know anything about our own equipment.

Hoysten: They tell us like where to plug in our cords [laughing]: "You plug in your cord right here." More just ignorance.

Tatone: As musicians, do you live your life day-to-day, or do you have long-term plans?

Hoysten: We have places we'd like to go and, right now, we're planning on writing for a second record.

Erickson: We have like six-month plans.

Hoysten: Generally, we think like six months ahead.

Tatone: Do you have any ideals of where you want to see yourself, say, next year?

Sparta: It's hard to say.

Erickson: The furthest we can think is, we wanna go to Europe.

Hoysten: We wanna keep the music really real and fresh too. If we planned too much, like "We're gonna be a band three years from now," what if we're turning out crap? We'd feel obligated to play together because we've had this dream. I think it's important for us to keep reevaluating what we're doing and making sure that we still feel like we're making some good art.

Tatone: I wanted to ask about the song "Other Animals Are #1." It seems to imply anti-capitalist, anti-technology — maybe anti-human — sentiment, saying we are the least evolved of all species because of our efficiency. Could you talk about the driving factors behind the lyrics and the personal beliefs that inspired them?

Hoysten: Wow. That's a time period for me, as a songwriter, where I was writing a lot about evolution vs. social Darwinism. I was thinking about how the development of society took over non-human members of the planet [that] were developing in a different way and adapting to us, rather than us having to adapt to anything. It was more an observation because of things I was reading and thinking about, as opposed to a stance. Although there's obviously an opinion in "Other Animals Are #1," I'm not anti-human or anything.

Jaffe: Not speaking for Jenny — because she's the one who wrote the lyrics — but being from the Bay Area and watching the drastic changes that are happening with technology.... It's not like, "Oh, they say they hate technology, but their guitars wouldn't be very loud without amplifiers." It's more the new techie revolution going on in the area where we live that we have a problem with, [and] how they treated the area and the people that already lived there, in San Francisco and Oakland. That kind of displacement.

Tatone: Do you view technology as destructive in general?

Erickson: I think a lot of it is really unnecessary.

Hoysten: I think it'd be really stupid to say that it's bad. I think a general trend toward more technology is just inevitable. It's the kind of thing that we could drag our feet about, but it's gonna happen no matter what. But, in general, humans are in this automated state. I think it's inevitable, but we don't necessarily have to like the byproducts of it.

Erickson: I think the most important thing about it is that people involved with it or developing it need to have a sense of responsibility for it, and what they're bringing new technologies into, and how it's affecting people. Who is it affecting and who isn't it affecting?

Jaffe: Yeah, whether it be the location of their business or the people that work for their business, affecting a community. Or whether it be the fact that only certain people have access to certain technologies.

Hoysten: I think all those developments are creating classes because that's just the nature of funding — it has a lot to do with money.

Tatone: Do you think technology is part of our evolution? And if it is, is there a better way to evolve?

Hoysten: I think its part of our de-evolution.


Bianca Sparta (left) and Jenny Hoysten

"We all really try and explore a whole lot of different kinds of music, and I think that keeps us fresh, so that we're always bringing something new." — Jenny Hoysten
Tatone: Could we evolve in a more positive way without it?

Erickson: I think you have to incorporate it into your life and decide how you wanna live. Nothing forces you to do anything.

Tatone: I like the song "Fault List." It seems to question the habitual placement of responsibility and where to look when things go bad. Could you talk about writing this song and what it means to you?

Hoysten: I need to think about that song for a second [head in hands, rubbing eyes and forehead].

That song is about a couple of things. It's a little more personal than a social commentary, except for the end is an exposé on the Freemasons and the secrets that we believe they're hiding. The beginning is actually a little bit more personally about what was going on in my life. I was playing in a bunch of bands and getting a little overwhelmed with all the music that was going on, and feeling like I was neglecting other things in my life, like eating and stuff, for awhile. It's a metaphor for me putting my guitar away for a year and going underground a little bit. I generally try to double-reference as much as I can, so there are a lot of other things that are implied. In general, the theme of that song was just about me trying to conjure myself down from getting too excited about all the projects I was doing.

Tatone: Did you actually do that?

Hoysten: Yeah.

Tatone: Do you write all the words?

Hoysten: There's one song these two girls [pointing to Jaffe and Sparta] helped me with. One song, "Walk, Don't Play" — wait, did you help too [to Erickson]? We probably all wrote it.

That was in response to an incident we had at the airport, flying. We went out to record in Michigan, where we recorded our album with my friends, and they lost Sara's guitar on the airline. It was a really frustrating experience, and that's where another technology blow-up was the case.

Tatone: Did they find your guitar?

Jaffe: Yeah, after the recording. And then it got stolen two months later anyway.

Hoysten: We recorded at a really great analog studio [X Pulsar] — one of the best in the country. It's in Owosso, Mich. And these two guys, Colin [Dupuis] and Norm [Druce], have an amazing set-up. It's like they're students of Steve Albini [legendary Chicago post-rock producer known for his work with Nirvana, The Breeders and PJ Harvey] where they're really not into post-production at all. They do everything with microphones, so it was a really interesting experience. They're really resourceful — that was a really neat thing, it really contributed to the sound of the record. They're amazing geniuses, and they're out in the middle of nowhere.

Tatone: Could you talk about the song "Billy Mummy"?

Hoysten: It's not about Add [Attention Deficit Disorder]. All these people keep saying it's about ADD. I dunno who came up with that, but they wrote it down somewhere and everyone else read it and thought it was gospel.

Yeah, that song changes from time to time. I direct it at people who are in power in our national government. But it's definitely loosely based on the Twilight Zone episode "The Billy Mumy Star." I wanted to sound more like a monster. It's this thing where this kid has the power to decide if you're doing something right or wrong and make you disappear into the cornfields or wherever he sent you.

Tatone: Could you talk about the song "How to Tell Yourself From A Television"?

Hoysten: Which one is that [to Erickson]? We have different names for a lot of our songs. Do you wanna know something about it specifically?


Bianca Sparta (left) and Jenny Hoysten

"I like it when [the audience gets] really sweaty and energized and then, after the show, they can't stop dancing or moving around. And they run around outside and everyone's really hyper and yelling. It becomes like chaos. I'd like to incite a riot, but a nice one." — Jenny Hoysten
Tatone: Well, what it's about lyrically, and aren't there a couple different titles, or maybe a couple different track numbers, or there's no number?

Hoysten: OK, right. I wrote that right before and probably during the dot-com bust that was going on. I was watching and reading about other countries and the class wars that were going on and thinking about the class conditions of where I was living and the area where I was living and working. It was so impressive to me how restrained we were and how polite we were about all the injustice. I felt like we were all just eating shit and smiling. And the song came out of that and it just exploded.

Most of the lyrics are improv [that come] during practice. Normally, I've got a theme in my head of something I'm thinking about and it just builds from there. The beginning of the song is about how everyone thinks San Francisco is such a lovely city. And how even down at the Fisherman's Wharf, the mayor is on a big-screen TV that's on the side of the building going: "Welcome to San Francisco, our people love to play host to you." And then there's all these homeless people lying on the ground that obviously have no means to play host to anyone. It started with that whole thing.

It was good to move to Oakland, but Oakland will probably be experiencing something like that really soon. But getting away from it and trying to find a community that was a little more where we were. The class divisions aren't as distinct over there — we're all pretty low-income, and a lot of people in Oakland are. There's certainly parts of town in the hills where people have some money, but for the most part it's a working-class town.

Jaffe: But at the same time I definitely think, although it's really hard, there's a lot of positive activities going on in San Francisco, like neighborhood community-oriented kind of things.

Hoysten: Yeah, they're trying to reorganize now, and I think it's a perfect time, too, 'cause the dot-coms are pulling out. I think it's an important time for people to organize as far as neighborhood coalitions go.

Tatone: So far, as artists, what have you encountered or experienced for the first time as the result of being in a band? Something maybe that you never would've expected?

Hoysten: Are you talking about being in this band? Because I think everyone has been in multiple bands.

Tatone: You can talk about either.

Hoysten: This is the first band that I've ever sung in, been a front person for. I've been in bands — Bianca and I, in our two-piece, I sang and played guitar. But this actual experience for me feels a lot like performance art. Normally, I'm just a musician. In the other bands I'm in I feel like that's my role. But now, I feel like I'm experiencing an engaging [physically]. So that's a first for me. Artistically, I've really learned from that.

Sparta: I feel fortunate to get to meet a lot of nice people just because we get to travel so much, meeting a lot of people and going places where I probably would've never traveled before. Getting to see a lot of the United States is really exciting.

Erickson: And in a really great way, not just going to the tourist sites, but going where people like yourself would hang out, and meeting people there.

Jaffe: Definitely, I think for all of us, just playing with people who have the same musical ideas in a way — it's like what we, in our head, had thought we wanted to do. And then it all comes out on the pages the same way together — it's really amazing.

Hoysten: That's been really great meeting musically like-minded bands and finding people like that, because we definitely have a lot socially and politically in common with a lot of the bands. It's really neat to see the underground people who aren't playing traditional music.

Tatone: Are there any specific bands you feel especially connected to?

Sparta: There's a lot.

Hoysten: I feel like if we started naming names, we'd leave someone out. I mean, we've found a lot of really neat bands.

Tatone: Could you talk a little about your reaction to the U.S. response to the terrorist attacks? The bombings, the embraced patriotism, the media, etc.

Sparta: I don't really wanna talk about it.

Hoysten: We're all very concerned about our civil liberties right now, like intelligence, but that's probably as much as we wanna say.

Jaffe: My folks live right outside New York so my response to the whole thing has been really personal.

Hoysten: Oh, what a mess.


Ellie Erickson

"We're all working toward making interesting new sounds that are more like an art form..." — Jenny Hoysten
Tatone: What about the embracing of patriotism?

Jaffe: I don't think any of us are nationalists.

Erickson: What was that one thing you saw [to Sara]?

Jaffe: Yeah, we saw the most fucked-up hat in Idaho. You know the little Calvin and Hobbes, the pissing Calvin? We saw a Calvin pissing on the word "Afghanistan." Calvin pissing on the word "terrorism" — it's terrible, it's mind-blowing and ignorant.

Hoysten: Patriotism and consumerism are so obviously tied right now it's ridiculous. Everyone's gone to the store and bought their 50-cent flag to put in their car window.

Sparta: And their 12-dollar T-shirt of the Twin Towers burning.

Hoysten: That all happened on my birthday, too. So, I go everywhere and I see my birthday everywhere. It's really shocking. It's really selfish, actually, [but] it's really annoying.

Sparta: People are writing on peace rally fliers, writing: "Don't go!" People are going and ripping down fliers for rallies.

Jaffe: One of the things that's most upsetting to me is I think it's a lot of communities that could be potential sites for resistance, communities of color. But what I'm seeing is people who might be potential targets for racism or whatever having adopted patriotism to show they're Americans, to protect themselves. It's very frustrating.

Erickson: That's so frustrating. In our neighborhood — we live in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood — everyone's got their [Mexican] flags out. Immediately, soon as that happened [Sept. 11], those went in and the American flags went out. And it was like you can't even have any cultural pride right now or you're a sympathizer.

Tatone: I want to get back to talking about your music, and I know I've already mentioned this, but I really think you have a very distinct sound — it's very unlike anything I've heard in a long time. Do you have an opinion on where you feel it comes from? Any motivations behind it?

Sparta: I think we all have our own separate styles of playing, so we try to adapt them together and that's the outcome.

Hoysten: And we're all pretty considerate about wanting to do something, or not wanting to write a particular song. It's not like we set out to try to make it as weird as possible necessarily. But we're trying not to limit ourselves and pushing envelopes of where we've gone musically before, from before we were together. We're all working toward making interesting new sounds that are more like an art form, as opposed to a songcraft, necessarily.

Sparta: But, at the same time, being conscious that, "Oh, this is a dance-y beat so there's more to dance to and that's rad!"

Erickson: That's when we have the most fun, is when the audience is....

Sparta: Yeah, we like the dancing.

Hoysten: It just gets people moving like it's active — you're at a show and you're moving — it's such a good thing.

Tatone: What do you do to keep things fresh? Do you have specific goals for how you want your music to evolve and stay fresh?

Sparta: It's going day-to-day for me, like what I think is fresh. My tastes change all the time.

Jaffe: I think, as far as recording the next album, we'd like to be able to spend some more time on it, on the actual recording, and think about the individual songs more, and speak for it at different steps of it. We were pretty rushed — like, the artwork was too rushed.

Hoysten: I think we're all record shoppers and we all listen to different music all the time and so I think we're always exploring things. Bianca is just now getting into sitcom music.

Sparta: Shhhh! [with index finger over lips, all laughing]

Hoysten: We all really try and explore a whole lot of different kinds of music, and I think that keeps us fresh, so that we're always bringing something new.

Tatone: Some of the bands you've been compared to include Gang of Four, LiLiPut, The Need, Captain Beefheart — do these make sense to you guys?

Hoysten: Not The Need, but Gang of Four definitely does, sure.

Jaffe: The Need only in the sense that they experiment with different structures. I think all that makes sense to us. I think that's just the tip of the iceberg in a way.

Erickson: I definitely find it flattering to be compared to those bands.

Sparta: No shit! Captain Beefheart! Hello! [laughing]

Hoysten: It's definitely an inspiration.

Tatone: So live, do you have certain hopes for what a listener would get out of it? For what the crowd takes away?

Hoysten: I like it when they get really sweaty and energized and then, after the show, they can't stop dancing or moving around. And they run around outside and everyone's really hyper and yelling. It becomes like chaos. I'd like to incite a riot, but a nice one.

Sparta: We ran into some friends this morning in Olympia [Wash.] and they said, "We're so worn out from how hard we were dancing to you guys last night." That's rad to hear.

Hoysten: I think that the active aspect of our performance is a really big deal to us. Like with the songwriting, we think more about types of music and the artistry of it. But when we're performing it, we really want it to be like you're experiencing something. You're not watching a concert on some screen, you're there and it's real people — be in the motion, be moved.