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| Patrick Bower by Kimi Selfridge |
Like XTC, musician Patrick Bower has a clever take on Pop, his music uses reflective and sophisticated imagery that doesn't clash with the simplicity within the songs.
Rising from Brooklyn, New York--the same part of the world that gave us artists like Citizen Cope, Yeasayer, Grizzly Bear, and The National--Bower's intimate sound fuses a melodic take on a dark crooner's perspective.
Patrick Bower's full discography journeys through intellectual overtness and subdued passion. He manages to mix his influences such as Velvet Underground and Harry Nilsson into a mature progression of Pop that envelops the listener into an acoustic ambiance. He has released three albums--2008's Beach Closed, Patrick Bower & The World Without Magic (2009), and Pink Room (2012). Bower has also released an EP in 2010 The Dark Lord (of Love) and a series of singles in 2014. We interviewed Bower back in December on the heels of his latest single, "My Heart is a Knife".
PB: When I was a little kid, I’d rent VHS tapes of old Hollywood musicals from my local library. They'd feature songs by Cole Porter and Irving Berlin, which I think gave me an appreciation for a clever turn of phrase. They also helped me understand how music can transform mood and how images and sound work together. Disney movies, too. I also remember hearing “Lady in Red” by Chris De Burgh and “I’m not in Love” by 10cc on the light rock radio my parent’s would listen to. This music was just as dramatic and romantic as the songs in a Fred Astaire movie, and I loved it all. They felt like transmissions from an alien world.
But it was really the early Beatles music that made me realize that actual human beings could make these sounds. The Beatles are complicated, but they appear simple, so that’s when I began to think that I could be a part of it.
But my parents didn't want me to listen to the later, druggy Beatles music. This is important, because by placing certain human expression into categories of the dangerous and the forbidden, they enforced its power and imbued it with even greater mystery and allure. So when I would secretly convince my uncle to burn me a copy of The White Album, I felt like I was making my spirit vulnerable to occult messages and learning the ingredients to a magic spell. I was right.
And like a lot of confused, isolated adolescents, I wanted to get out of my own head at all costs. When I was 15, I heard Transmissions from the Satellite Heart by The Flaming Lips. It was a revelation. From there, I worked backward into the history of experimental rock, which led to Daniel Johnston, The Velvet Underground, Scott Walker, Moondog and so on. And I did most of it in secret. Everybody else was listening to The Smashing Pumpkins or Weezer.
But I’ve never heard of Aztec Camera. I’ll check it out. I’m always learning.
UKN: Why have you decided to release a series of singles in 2014 instead of a full album?
PB: Albums are great, especially if they have a unifying purpose or a theme. But, among other things, an album is something to sell, a commodity. I’m not affiliated with a record label right now, so I don’t see much point in packaging myself for record stores. And when it comes down to it, people listen to songs, not albums, especially over the past decade. I’d rather release a few songs that people listen to closely than a whole album that most people will skim. I want each song to get its due. It also suits my lifestyle at the moment. I’m busy. But if a record label wants to release some songs, I'd be happy to make another record.
UKN: How do you normally compose your music? What drives you to write new songs nowadays? Do books inspire you?
PB: When I decide to work on a batch of songs, I make a schedule for myself. I get up early everyday, make coffee and head to my studio with a notepad. I use my iPhone to record bits of melodies so I don’t forget them. I revise and revise and revise. And yes, books often keep me going. Phrases, ideas and moods will often spark something that leads me to a song. Roberto Bolaño has a particularly poetic, musical way of thinking and writing that has interested me lately.
I think I write songs today for the same reasons I always have. I just need to make sense of things. Consciousness and be present have always been problematic for me. One question leads to the next, and I’m still working it out. I think everyone feels this way to some degree, but they may deal with it in ways that are more practical and productive. Or successfully ignore it. For me, I just make little songs that help articulate what it’s like for this particular human being to be alive, while it lasts.
UKN: I read your life in bands hasn't been very lucky in the past, unfortunately. What are your thoughts and memories about those experiences?
PB: I think I've been lucky, in most ways. I'm lucky to have worked with so many wonderful musicians. Some relationships ran their natural course and ended, others continue. Most were artistically successful. It’s hard to keep a gang of busy adults together. I’m not a gang leader anymore, if I ever was one. Anyway, none of my drummers have exploded. And I've only had regretful sex with a few. I’m lucky. On the other hand, we never hit it big, but that’s a matter of pure chance.
UKN: If you had to pick 5 albums (or books) you consider fundamental, which would you choose?
PB: I could listen to these records on a loop from now til I die:
The Velvet Underground and Nico, White Light/White Heat by the Velvet Underground
Songs of Love and Death by Leonard Cohen
Nilsson Schmilsson by Harry Nilsson
Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys
Listen to Patrick Bower's music through bandcamp. You can get in touch with him on twitter
(traduzione in italiano dopo il break)
UKN: Your music seems to draw influences from Aztec Camera to experimental/psychedelic rock. What can you tell us about your musical evolution and early experiences?
PB: When I was a little kid, I’d rent VHS tapes of old Hollywood musicals from my local library. They'd feature songs by Cole Porter and Irving Berlin, which I think gave me an appreciation for a clever turn of phrase. They also helped me understand how music can transform mood and how images and sound work together. Disney movies, too. I also remember hearing “Lady in Red” by Chris De Burgh and “I’m not in Love” by 10cc on the light rock radio my parent’s would listen to. This music was just as dramatic and romantic as the songs in a Fred Astaire movie, and I loved it all. They felt like transmissions from an alien world.
But it was really the early Beatles music that made me realize that actual human beings could make these sounds. The Beatles are complicated, but they appear simple, so that’s when I began to think that I could be a part of it.
But my parents didn't want me to listen to the later, druggy Beatles music. This is important, because by placing certain human expression into categories of the dangerous and the forbidden, they enforced its power and imbued it with even greater mystery and allure. So when I would secretly convince my uncle to burn me a copy of The White Album, I felt like I was making my spirit vulnerable to occult messages and learning the ingredients to a magic spell. I was right.
And like a lot of confused, isolated adolescents, I wanted to get out of my own head at all costs. When I was 15, I heard Transmissions from the Satellite Heart by The Flaming Lips. It was a revelation. From there, I worked backward into the history of experimental rock, which led to Daniel Johnston, The Velvet Underground, Scott Walker, Moondog and so on. And I did most of it in secret. Everybody else was listening to The Smashing Pumpkins or Weezer.
But I’ve never heard of Aztec Camera. I’ll check it out. I’m always learning.
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| Patrick Bower & The World Without Magic (2009) |
PB: Albums are great, especially if they have a unifying purpose or a theme. But, among other things, an album is something to sell, a commodity. I’m not affiliated with a record label right now, so I don’t see much point in packaging myself for record stores. And when it comes down to it, people listen to songs, not albums, especially over the past decade. I’d rather release a few songs that people listen to closely than a whole album that most people will skim. I want each song to get its due. It also suits my lifestyle at the moment. I’m busy. But if a record label wants to release some songs, I'd be happy to make another record.
UKN: How do you normally compose your music? What drives you to write new songs nowadays? Do books inspire you?
PB: When I decide to work on a batch of songs, I make a schedule for myself. I get up early everyday, make coffee and head to my studio with a notepad. I use my iPhone to record bits of melodies so I don’t forget them. I revise and revise and revise. And yes, books often keep me going. Phrases, ideas and moods will often spark something that leads me to a song. Roberto Bolaño has a particularly poetic, musical way of thinking and writing that has interested me lately.
I think I write songs today for the same reasons I always have. I just need to make sense of things. Consciousness and be present have always been problematic for me. One question leads to the next, and I’m still working it out. I think everyone feels this way to some degree, but they may deal with it in ways that are more practical and productive. Or successfully ignore it. For me, I just make little songs that help articulate what it’s like for this particular human being to be alive, while it lasts.
UKN: I read your life in bands hasn't been very lucky in the past, unfortunately. What are your thoughts and memories about those experiences?
PB: I think I've been lucky, in most ways. I'm lucky to have worked with so many wonderful musicians. Some relationships ran their natural course and ended, others continue. Most were artistically successful. It’s hard to keep a gang of busy adults together. I’m not a gang leader anymore, if I ever was one. Anyway, none of my drummers have exploded. And I've only had regretful sex with a few. I’m lucky. On the other hand, we never hit it big, but that’s a matter of pure chance.
UKN: If you had to pick 5 albums (or books) you consider fundamental, which would you choose?
PB: I could listen to these records on a loop from now til I die:
The Velvet Underground and Nico, White Light/White Heat by the Velvet Underground
Songs of Love and Death by Leonard Cohen
Nilsson Schmilsson by Harry Nilsson
Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys
Listen to Patrick Bower's music through bandcamp. You can get in touch with him on twitter
(traduzione in italiano dopo il break)
