Isaac Dunbar Takes Our Pop Quiz
office gave Isaac an impromptu pop quiz where there are no wrong answers... except, of course, the wrong ones.
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office gave Isaac an impromptu pop quiz where there are no wrong answers... except, of course, the wrong ones.
But for the moment, beyond major magazine features or sold-out shows, Ives is most stoked on the fact that people know the lyrics to her songs. We’re seated in opposite couches of her dimly-lit Brooklyn brownstone, and while impending nightfall threatens to break up throngs of cultured 20-something year olds outside, her two cats, Ichabod and Jupiter, are quasi-contemptuously eyeing each other on a faded rug leading up to the dinner table. “So many people were singing songs that literally came out a week ago,” she says, fading sunlight from a narrow window illuminating one side of her face, and an antique yellow overhead light fixture battling for dominance over the other. “In the past, at shows, it would just be maybe two or three people singing along. But last night, it just felt very… excited.”
There were also shows where no one sang along at all. One of Ives’ first serious performances came in support of her debut album 2nd, and in the grandiose-yet-humble stage area of C’mon Everybody, a Brooklyn event space and bar, not a single person had arrived to see her play her set. In the same spunky, down-to-earth spirit that has grown to characterize her artistic appeal up to now, she did wind up trooping through her entire performance — besides the room’s four walls, her only “audience” the entire time was a curious couple that walked in and walked right back out — which, even though it’s great material for an inspirational scene in a biopic, should one someday be made of her, accomplished little in the grand scheme of album promotion. But for Ives, the agenda may never have been so much for run-of-the-mill self-promo as it was for cathartic self-reflection. Promoting herself, both in conversation and on her social media platforms, comes across as a necessary evil: her pre-release spree of promotional Instagram posts featured two selfies in effortlessly-random spots, each captioned with the same formulaic “in (location) thinking about my album that comes out on friday.” The joy in Ives’ art is rooted more in an extraordinary vulnerability, one that shies away from sensationalist stages separating artist from audience, and basks in not only not knowing what’s going on, but laughing about it, too. It’s what made the show so special to her — there wasn’t any toilet paper in the bathroom, and at times, it felt as if the vacant, barely-structurally-sound venue was going to fall in on itself, but the prospect of an even playing field far outlasted the need for a glamorous coronation. “It was the perfect place,” she says, because “we’ve all never been here before.”
Released via the New York indie label True Panther Records, Janky Star sees Ives package a funny record of herself in rustling, minimalistic soundscapes described by Pitchfork as “pop music made from the inside of a maraca.” “Cut my hours back, well I guess I'll walk it off,” she sings lightheartedly of the grueling odd-job hustle that foregrounded her new peak in “Loose.” “I come home to an empty talk / I bring the bed bugs back.” Musically, the album manages to be markedly modest in light of Ives’ far more expansive background — an acoustic guitar leaning against a nearby wall is a convenient hint towards her longtime prowess as an instrumentalist, and on top of that, she was churning out awkward melodies via laptop software long before she was performing, let alone to rooms full of people who knew all the lyrics to her week-old songs. On Janky Star, though, the sounds are far from those of big-band anthems or tech-savvy ravers. “Lazy Day,” for instance, boasts a sonic backdrop not far removed from a grown-up’s version of a kids’ wind-up toy, droning forth between two wistful chords that alternate with one-another amidst click-tracky drum hits. As much as it’s stripped down, it's an ethos that waxes maximal — much like the musician herself, the music isn’t trying to be something it isn’t, and the fact that it’s hilariously honest with itself is part of what makes it so good.
The tongue-in-cheek sarcasm, often crossing over into equally tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation, is a quality Ives embraces beyond music. “To go a whole day without laughing is crazy,” she says. “To watch a whole movie without laughing is crazy. To listen to a whole album without laughing is crazy. [...] You’ll see red carpet interviews of actors who take themselves so seriously, and I think they’re so fucking weird. Like, if you would just laugh… We just saw you for two hours on screen pretending to be Elvis Presley.” Part of Ives’ musical ethos hinges on taking herself with a grain of salt, but before it was woven into the fabric of her critic’s-pick albums, it was a preemptive defense mechanism to ward off smart-mouthed classmates before they could make any wisecracks at her expense. Today, it nests comfortably in her craft as the chief instrument of artist-audience barrier-breaking. Yet at the other end of the spectrum, it may also be an undermining agent for her immense talent: sometimes, when she isn’t careful, the risk presents itself for her to diminish herself in the name of humility.
With a well-received album out, a newfangled litany of people who know the lyrics to her songs, and a headlining international tour coming up, it’s a balance she’ll have the rest of the foreseeable future to strike. For now, though, when she shows me the weirdest tattoo she has — an indiscernible frog-thing hoisting an unknown object, all captured in thick, enigmatically-squiggly ink — it seems like she’s well on her way.
“I don’t know what it is,” she says, between laughs. “It’s, like, a fucking platypus- a frog-horse holding hearts? I think that’s definitely the weirdest.”
The namesake of Janky Star is a tattoo given to her by a friend years ago. Between it, the unknown amphibian, and an army of other funny ones that populate her limbs, she doesn’t plan on getting any removed.
Leather jacket WORSTOK, tights ACNE STUDIOS, boots MAISON MARGIELA, sunglasses ACNE STUDIOS
After a year-long break, the band throws a wicked curveball, cutting their brief absence short and reminding their fans that once again, they are here for the long hall. This recent release accentuates their focus and melds together catchy melodies with absurdist humor, showcasing the versatility and range of their power as a group. A euphoric kind of trickster energy saturates this single from the first note up until the last.
office sat down with the band members to discuss their conceptualized visions, musical process, upcoming projects, and more.
First and foremost, how are all of you doing and what are you the most excited about right now?
Ilia 一 Right now we’re in the state of prostration. We don’t fully understand what to do and how to keep living.
You’re a band of five members, as a group, how do you collectively conceptualize your visions when making your music? Is it ever difficult to come to an agreement or does every member have equal say?
Sonya 一 It’s not difficult. Our band is a democracy, but until a certain point simply because every band needs a leader that can put a final point on a discussion. We listen to each other but the final saying belongs to Ilia. The success is always mutual but if there’s a fuck up it’s Ilia’s responsibility.
Your band's music is emblematic of rave culture and it spews out notes of hyper-pop and a great fucking time. How do you capture the essence of these elements? How did you formulate your sound?
Ilia 一 We never attempted to create a song within a certain genre. Our music is hybrid in its essence, for example, last summer we released a metal track inspired by rave culture. Also, we have the track ‘UNO’ which is a Eurodance and Latino hybrid. ’Skibidi’ it’s a completely fucked up song and I’m not even able to tell what’s the genre. If anyone out there can define the ‘Skibidi’ genre please DM us, we’ll be extremely grateful. *laughs* We do what we want basically, since we were little we got used to listening to different genres from jazz to death metal. That’s why it is really hard for us to limit ourselves to one genre. When we arrive at the studio we never force anything, we never know what will come out. It can be metal, hyper-pop, house, rave, or Brazilian funk, it’s always a surprise. Honestly, maybe I’d like to be able to come to the studio and make music within one single genre, but as of now, I’ve been unsuccessful. It’s been like that for the last ten years and it’s been a thrill so far.
Sonya: full look RICK OWENS, Ilya: full look SECOND LAYER
The release of each album draws references from pop culture, who are some of your earliest influences when growing up? How did these influences shape your visions?
Ilia 一 Everything we do is connected to pop culture. Since we were kids we used to breathe pop culture and let’s be honest in Russia all the contemporary pop culture is American. Neither I, Sonya nor Alina ever liked Soviet pop culture because it was too conservative and always supported the government’s interests. Apart from some exceptions like Gaidai or Balabanov, everything was about either love or love for the government. So stuff like MTV, 90s movies, and music is a huge inspiration for us. European culture is also a big part of our art, I love ‘New Kids Turbo’, the Dutch gabber and hardcore scene, and the Italian hardcore scene. We also love Italian cinema, Celentano movies are among our favorites. We love Wes Anderson, Taika Waititi, and of course ABBA - they are geniuses. Ah, and a huge shoutout to James Gunn for making Peacemaker’ that show is fucking sick! Some of my friends never understood how I could listen to Cannibal Corpse and Aqua at the same time *laughs*
Each music video oozes out this peculiar combination of chaos and extraordinary energy. What’s the behind the scenes process look like? In other words, how do you all put together your videos?
Alina 一 We want our music videos to have a variety of scenes and a diversity of characters. That's why we spend a lot of time reflecting meticulously on each scene and building each character. Before actually filming a music video we create either pre-shoots or CGI animations of all the scenes so we can preview them and understand if they work or not.
Ilia 一 It’s very important that the viewer gets the message of each scene or at least its vibe. We want the viewer to have a good time with us because each time we shoot a music video we have a great fucking time. We have a big team behind each video, so it’s really important that everyone has fun filming it because the viewer will feel the good vibes as well.
Long coat WORSTOK
Aside from being masterful musicians, the performance aspect that you all show off accentuates each track and takes them to new heights. Could you talk about what inspires the dances and performances?
Ilia 一 When I was a kid I used to write music, breakdance, and skate. Somehow back then I felt that music couldn’t exist without a visual component. So if you’re performing a song live or in a music video the moves you make enhance the vibe of the song. It’s not only about your singing skills, but it’s also about your looks, your moves, and how the whole ensemble is being filmed.
You haven’t released any new music since 2021, can we expect to see anything in the upcoming months? Perhaps an EP or a single is in the works?
Ilia 一 We have a lot of new music and music video ideas. We’ve got some features in mind as well. We haven’t released anything on purpose, because we were going through an introspection phase. We had a lot of hype since 2020 and everyone was expecting something from us, there was a lot of pressure to keep releasing tracks. Our fans were asking for different kinds of music, some wanted rave, others wanted more stuff like ‘UNO’ or ‘Skibidi’. In the end, we decided to take a pause and start to write the kind of music we want and at our own pace. We wanted to regain pleasure in writing music, it might sound cliché but if we enjoy writing our music our audience will enjoy listening to it. Frequently it’s either the artist who serves the audience or vice-versa, we don’t like that. We think the best formula is when you and your audience are at the same level when you’re like one.
Sonya: tank top SECOND LAYER, shoes JACQUEMUS, Ilya: shorts BALENCIAGA, helmet CRUSADE
What themes do you all hope to explore in future projects? How do you want to elevate your sound and project your music to new lengths?
Ilia 一 We don’t know how the project will evolve. For example, our new song and music video ’Generation Cancellation’ is a statement against the war. It’s our position not only in regards to the war in Ukraine but also the wars all around the world. We think the concept of war should cease to exist once and for all. The people responsible for this make our lives like hell on Earth, we never understood that in full until it came close to us. This is to say that we wanted to create this hyper-pop, grungy song so we made it. We also have this 80s track coming mixed with a metal riff, so it’s really hard to plan for us, life is so unpredictable so we think it’s just silly to plan something. Whatever happens, happens. Our motto is to keep doing what you’re doing no matter the risks.
What kind of feeling dominates when you listen to your music or what do you want your listeners to feel when they listen to your music?
Ilia 一 Little Big it’s a statement, our message is that everything makes no sense except your life. A person’s life shouldn’t be sad, it should be enjoyable. If everyone could live like this there would be no wars, why would you go to death or kill someone if you enjoy your own life? The simple possibility of someone’s death is a tragedy, one person’s death is a tragedy, and war, well war is something unthinkable.
Lastly, what can we expect to see from all of you in the next few months? Anything you can share with the writers at the office?
Ilia 一 ‘Generation Cancellation’ is dropping in June and the upcoming tracks will be more Little Big. We had to share ‘Generation Cancellation’ now because we can’t stay silent because we are in pain and we need to let it out. We want everyone to understand what we feel right now.
In youth and in art, we struggle with our experience of time, forgetting tragedy progresses in stages. Yet to feel life occurring alongside decay in our own bodies, we think ‘the end’ is indiscriminate, and all at once. And in the timeless spirit of Sturm und Drang, we make art.
‘I Think it’s Over’ is a bittersweet assemblage of the sounds and people that populate the DIY scene– an attempt at capturing a fleeting thought. The DIY scene inhabits a similar paradox, a constant network of expression and creativity, the DIY network of venues, hosts, fans, and artists is driven by and struggling against its ephemeral nature. ‘I Think it’s Over’ immortalizes its protagonists–Dulgarian, Hartzman, and their bandmates in interviews, ephemeral concert footage, and behind-the-scenes greenroom talk.
Capturing both the glamor and grit (and the lack of showers), ‘I Think It’s Over’ revives the feeling of the 90s grunge and shoegaze scene in the modern DIY worldwith candor, humor, and the occasional braggadocio.
Check out the documentary and our exclusive conversation with Wednesday, TAGABOW and Ben Turok below.
What are some of the key ingredients of a good DIY scene?
DD– I think is really interesting is you can really live anywhere and start a band. I know that's like really corny to say and be like, anybody can play guitar, but like for real? Like anybody can fucking play guitar. And sorry, I don't know, that's the whole thing about like, DIY. And I think that's like the power of the internet too is like, people are realizing like, you know, they're seeing bands like Wednesday or whatever. And they're like, Wow, I really love this. And they're realizing that they can fucking do it too, which is really cool. And you can I mean, anybody, I don't know, it's really, as far as like a DIY scene, though. I think the key ingredients would be like, kinda like spaces available bands. And people who care about it. You want a place where people are tapped in, where they know about the band that's coming through, and they're interested in the culture.
BT– I totally agree that it's very democratic when the scene is working. I'm not in a band, I can hang out with the band. And we just talk about music, and, you know, Karly, and I can just talk about some movies that we've watched or whatever. And then we just start hanging out. And you're like, “oh, you make movies. Let's make a movie.” You just need the community to be interested and work together in whatever ways they can.
KH– Yeah, I started getting involved with music through photography, because I didn't play music till my junior year of college. The DIY scene just made people feel like they can be involved in any way and that they'll be part of the scene and have passion around their local town and its music. There’s something for everyone. Like, ‘Hey you can take photos and hang with us” or “You can throw shows at your house and be a part of it.” It’s just really encouraging people to be involved.
What was the most meaningful tour stop for you?
DD– Playing the basement in Hardcore Stadium in Boston was really cool. That’s probably my favorite show. It’s just like a fabled hardcore venue and we played the downstairs which was really cool. I’ve videos of that fucking place forever and ever. So that was really cool for me.
KH– It’s funny that you brought up the Boston show because that night was so hard on me. I actually started taking meds after that tour, because I felt like I couldn’t do that. Our tour was so good, that my brain was like out of the happy chemical because it was just so rewarding. And then we sold out Boston, which I just couldn’t comprehend, I just didn’t have any like serotonin to experience what I wanted from it. So I cried on stage that night, because my cup was empty, like my brain cup. I was so angry because I just wanted to enjoy and I just so badly wanted to be excited about the show. So that was a really important moment for me.
What is touring like for you?
DD– When it’s day one of tour that feels real and then every day after that it’s a performance. The first day is like yes I love this shit. I’m so glad to see these people. And the next day you’re like– and especially if you’ve been touring for a long time, you know the feeling is coming– and i don’t want to talk about it like it’s this horrible thing, because it really is truly beautiful and you get home and it’s so beautiful that when you do get home for five days after tour you still feel empty because you had so much fun. Like people joke about like post tour depression but that shit is too real. It’s so fucking real.
KH– Yeah, I don’t think people realize all of the components involved in DIY music. I think everybody sees the glamour of it or the fun of it but nobody really talks about how difficult it is. It’s so difficult dude. It requires so much work. And the majority of touring is like, gas stations and fucking highways, you know what I mean? And being in a van for six hours and that shit is crazy, and then you’re brought to this really crazy emotional high every night for 20 nights in a row and barely surviving and not having a lot of money to do it. You get to a point where its just grating, and that sucks because I always want to be around for other bands that are supporting us and getting to know the local bands. but sometimes you’re just so empty.
DD– Yeah, it’s always like everyone in the band has a different favorite show from that tour. It just depends on where you’re at emotionally that night or any given night. That affects how you interpret a show because someone’s favorite show if they had something happen that day is going to feel very different from someone else’s favorite show.
BT–I remember you being pretty excited after the New York show, Karly.
KH– Oh yeah. We were meeting our new label for the first time. And that was our second New York show that sold out, which I can’t believe any of that is happening still.
DD– Yeah, I always go under the assumption of like, if you play in New York and anybody cares about you. You should be thankful. Because they don’t care in New York City, because there are just so many more things going on. They just don’t fucking care.
KH– Yeah I was feeling that on this tour a lot. I think the stuff that is just the most soul-sucking for me is when the kind of venues you’re playing, and you see this in the documentary, you just roll up to the venue and have to hang at the venue just in the main area because there’s no space to be and like the first people start showing up and the performance starts there because people want to talk to you immediately. And you perform still for the hour after doors just playing as a person and then you perform your set on stage and selling merch you have to perform your personality and then you go with some kids that are letting you stay at their house and you’re still performing because they want ot hang with you. And a lot of musicians are introverts and need that solitude.
Ben, from the crowd, what was your favorite show?
BT– I really liked how the music sounded in Boston. I think just being in that kind of underground, grungy environment, the tones sound how you want them to, and I don’t know, when someone is performing and experiencing something completely real and you’re watching as an audience member. There’s something really powerful about someone sharing that space. I know, maybe Karly didn’t choose to do that. But just someone being so vulnerable. That blew me away. And I remember talking to you after and you saying you felt kind of weird about it. But, I don’t know if that’s necessarily a bad thing. I think it’s maybe good for people to understand that this shit is hard, you know?
The documentary was framed within an apocalypse narrative, what do you think the importance of the end of the world is to youth culture?
DD– I was just trolling. I feel like everything I said to Ben that he put into the movie was just me fucking around. KH– Yeah, I feel like you’re rolling because it’s just funny. It’s just hard to think about global issues when you’re just trying to get through the day-to-day. But I feel like that’s our whole generation is doing that. It’s just something to survive the night.
BT– I think I inspired that vibe, because I think something that is resonating a little bit about all this music is like the music isn’t the same all the time, and it’s existing online in one way. It’s circulating in the same conversation, all these different bands and something about that is generally a bit melancholic to be. So I came at you guys asking questions like that.
KH– I think a lot of that feeling, like with anything right now, is just the spirit that Doug was hinting at by making jokes, that there’s kind of no point even making music right now. But we’re doing it anyway. Like, yeah, it could all be over so soon.
DD– What is worth it to me, and what I want to convey in my music is that like, I’m aware that, as someone who makes this music, that it’s also pointless. You know, I really wish I could do something to stop climate change. But I’m one person making some stupid music, playing basements. You know what I mean?
BH– I have to kind of disagree with you guys. Both of you have done a lot to raise money for abortion funds right now, which is something that means a lot to me, both of my parents work in that space. So that’s another thing about DIY music, there’s this very community-based component. People really get a lot out of this. It provides a lot of relief.
KH– In music there’s like a line you hit where you start making money and then you’re making a lot of money because your fan base grows really big. I honestly think that donating a portion of your proceeds is the least everyone should be doing. I think everyone that’s in the position to, if they’re not donating, it’s like kind of fucked up because the money is there. Where’s that going? It’s the bare minimum in my opinion.
It’s also interesting seeing the internet amplifying this feeling of doom. The documentary talks a bit about the 90s resurgence. Do you feel like the sound of shoegaze has amplified or shifted that feeling?
KH– I think the access that people have for us to blend shoegaze with like, country music, and just having access to every song in the world. You can research music history. It makes it easier to take on influence and not be a worship band. To go one step further and make it your own.
DD– We are a worship band.
Of who?
DD– We’re a Blue Smiley worship band for sure.
KH– That’s a really good answer. They’re so important. If we had to be a worship band, it’d probably just be, I don't even know, probably Swirlies or something because they do some crazy shit. But, I’m not good enough. Which is good because it keeps me humble, makes me make up for that in other ways.
What would you want the last song you hear to be, if the world was ending?
DD– ‘They Burned Down Dairy Queen’ by Wednesday.
KH– Oh my god, Douglas! My first is ‘Till the World Ends’ Britney Spears. Then, on the brink of death, ‘french’ by TAGABOW.
BT– ‘I Know It’s Over’ by the Smiths, for me.
And your last words?
DD– "I fucking told you." I said it, go check the documentary.
KH– Oh god, Doug. I know this is basic, but I’d want to be with my parents. I just saw them like a day ago, but I want to be with my parents all the time. I’m like a baby.
BT– I was gonna say my last words would be: "Love you, Mom."