Terminal West Presents:

Bob Mould (solo/electric)

With Eric Bachmann

Wednesday, April 26
7:00PM doors / 8:00PM show
All Ages
  • Price$22.00 - $25.00
TICKETS

Bob Mould

Here's the deal. In 2012, people loved Silver Age (to a degree that surprised me, pleasantly), likewise Beauty & Ruin in 2014 (despite the heaviness of the subject matter, which I thought might be a bit alienating… apparently not. Another pleasant surprise). But PATCH THE SKY is the darkest one. After the Letterman performance in February 2015 where “dust fell from the rafters”, it would have seemed logical to go the punk rock route – an entire album of two minute songs — but that wasn't where my soul was at. I withdrew from everyday life. I wrote alone for six months. I love people but I needed my solitude. The search for my own truth kept me alive. These songs are my salvation. I've had a solid stretch of hard emotional times, and thanks for the condolences in advance. I don't want to go into the details – more death, relationships ending, life getting shorter – because they're already in the songs. Just listen and see if you can fit yourself into my stories. The words make you remember. The music makes you forget. But PATCH THE SKY is also the catchiest one. I always aim for the perfect balance of bright melodies and dark stories. I’ve used this juxtaposition for years. This time, I’ve tuned it to high contrast. The first side of the album is generally simple and catchy. The second side is heavier in spirit and tone. Opposing forces and properties. I love both sides of PATCH THE SKY. At the core of these songs is what I call the chemical chorus — you hear it once and your brain starts tingling. The heart rate picks up. It gets worse – you know it's coming again and you can barely stand the anticipation. Then, the beautifully heartbreaking bridge appears, and you're all set up – hooked for life. Music is an incredibly powerful drug. I want to be your drug dealer. I have what you need. On the current band. I'm currently in the best band in the world with Jon Wurster on drums and Jason Narducy on bass. We’ve been working together since March 2008. Jon and Jason are involved in many quality projects and I’m amazed they find the time to play music with me. I am always thankful for their contributions. On the recording process. Beau Sorenson engineered the tracking sessions at Electrical Audio in Chicago. We all played really hard and I used very loud amps. We mixed PATCH THE SKY at Different Fur in San Francisco. Bob Weston mastered the album at Chicago Mastering Service. Sonically, it’s deeper and richer than the previous two albums. On the state of my music. Beyond the aforementioned trials of life, I found myself thinking about the 1970s, where heavy metal, soft rock, and confessional singer/songwriters collided (and gay porno was better). I circled back to the forgotten sounds of my teen years, and how I used to absorb, learn, and emulate in order to create. When I was younger I always felt the need to justify my work. These days, I don’t have time or energy for that. I only want to finish the songs that get stuck in my head for days and weeks and months on end. And add lots of guitar solos. On the last campaign, I had a song called Little Glass Pill that talked about "a window and a mirror”. That's what music is to me, both as creator and lifelong fan. The window — where you can see inside my soul. The mirror — where I look to find my own truth. When the inspiration hits, roll with it. Write what you live, love, and know. On gratitude. Apparently I’ve been given some special dispensation. How many musicians get to play loud rock at 55 and still have an audience? It’s amazing that people from so many different cities, countries, ages and walks of life all continue to find something in common in my music. I take the art form very seriously, I appreciate being recognized for my efforts, and I’m incredibly grateful for the time I’ve had in the light. I like the brightness, and Lord knows I’ve got darkness covered. * * * Anyhow — let’s try to make something enjoyable out of all the heaviness of life and death and love and failure and fear and regret that we all go through. Talk with me about normal stuff. Ask me fun questions. I’ll say some crazy shit because I'm old. Kids will think I’m out of touch with modern times. I love it. Let’s do it.

Eric Bachmann

Twenty-five years after Archers of Loaf broke onto Chapel Hill, North Carolina's vital indie scene, frontman Eric Bachmann is recording the rawest, most honest work of his career under his own name. The March 25 release of Eric Bachmann marks the end of Bachmann's post-Archers solo project Crooked Fingers, and the beginning of a candid new sound. "To me, the '90s were for the Archers… The 2000s were for Crooked Fingers," says Bachmann. "I feel like now—in 2015, 2016—it's time to metamorphose. When you do this for a long time, you feel a strong pull to reinvent things from time to time, or at least to reconfigure them. There is resistance, of course, from many places to remain the same. But after a while the dam breaks, and the compulsion to change becomes overwhelming. You just have to do it or you sort of feel like you're not being true to yourself." Where Archers had attitude and guitar-driven intensity, Eric Bachmann has vulnerability, led by piano, rich vocal harmonies, and Bachmann's hard-won liberty to lay himself bare. "There is less of an externalized character to be responsible to," says Bachmann, referring to the sardonic smart-ass who narrated the Archers' music, or the gossiping storyteller at the helm of Crooked Fingers. "When I think about why I am compelled to put my own name on a thing as a proper title now, all of these various perspectives feel unnecessary." Even in their exhilarating beauty, the nine original tracks on Eric Bachmann are direct challenges—to social injustice, to precarious love, and frequently to Southern hypocrisy. On "Masters of the Deal," which on its surface tells the story of Texas' 2012 execution of low-IQ murderer Marvin Lee Wilson, Bachmann sings that "The South is a ghost, a ghost is a lie." Despite the song's lilting warmth, it is, says Bachmann, "dealing with what I consider to be a great historical fraud. I am from the South, born and raised, and I grew up listening to all of these American Southerners talking about their heritage as if it was a noble thing. But I don't believe them." The kick-kick-kick-snare throughout "Mercy" carries a message about "emanating gratitude and unconditional love, despite our differences of opinion," says Bachmann. "It is a risky song for me because when certain members of my family hear it, it may not go well. They likely won't hear the intended inclusive message." Recorded in Asheville, NC, and mixed in Taiwan by Athens, GA, expat engineer Andy Baker, Eric Bachmann features musicians including Jeremy Wheatley, Matthew Nelson, Jon Rauhouse, Tracey Wolf, Samara Waller, Wade Rittenberry, and Liz Durrett, who wrote the track "Carolina." "My wandering lifestyle has presented only one nugget of clarity in my life: that places do not offer a sense of home for me. People do," says Bachmann of the ideas that guide him in this new era of his career. "I believe that much of the chronic loneliness and fear that plagues our species stems from the probability that whatever creative force set all of this into motion is indifferent to us."