Alt-J

The Polarizing Rise of ∆

High Praise Begets Harsh Criticism for British Art-Rockers Alt-J

By Andrew Clayman
Published in The Nashville Scene, March 2013

Are the members of Alt-J really just ordinary blokes? And if so, can we forgive them for it?

Such ridiculous questions would likely dog any art-school band that (1) names itself after the Microsoft Windows key command for the delta symbol, (2) gets dubbed “the next Radiohead” in various hyperbolic blog posts, and (3) sees its debut album win the 2012 Mercury Prize for UK Album of the Year. In the case of Alt-J, however, the obligatory backlash and authenticity debates seem less focused on the group’s actual music, and more on the lads themselves—with critics taking aim from both ends of the spectrum.

To the indie-rock press—long time admirers of the commercially un-ambitious and mysteriously aloof—these four friends from Leeds University just seem frustratingly out of sync with their usual parade of heroes.

Take drummer Thom Green, for example—the architect of many of those exotic time signatures the blogosphere went batty for on Alt-J’s 2012 album, An Awesome Wave. When asked about his band’s enormous 2013 touring schedule (they will be traveling back and forth from Europe to North America at least eight different times), Green is quite straightforward about the battle plan.

“We could be bigger in America, certainly,” he says, speaking on behalf of his bandmates Joe Newman (guitar/vocals), Gwil Sainsbury (guitar/bass), and Gus Unger-Hamilton (keyboards). “We have a goal of doing well there, and I think this tour could make or break that. It’s just a great opportunity for us.”

Heresy! Thom Yorke would never have been so transparent about his hopes for breaking the American market! No wonder Pitchfork Media gave An Awesome Wave a less-than-awesome 4.8 rating and a scathing review, using populist quotes from the band as evidence for their lack of artistic integrity, and citing “extraneous sparkle” as a cover-up for what were otherwise “draining, elongated MOR tunes.”

Surprisingly, though, Green doesn’t really sound like a poser intent on achieving some kind of Coldplay-level celebrity status. In fact, he seems fairly pleased that Alt-J has avoided a lot of the over-exposure that so many upstart UK bands experience.

“Overall, we got to where we are by making the kind of music we want to hear and working hard at what we do, not by selling our souls and being on the cover of NME every week.”

Now that’s the sort of underdog philosophy that ought to help out a band’s street cred. Unfortunately, it also just seems to put Alt-J in the crosshairs of a different set of harsh critics—those dwelling above ground in the mainstream music media. Neil McCormack of the Daily Telegraph, for example, went as far as to call the band’s Mercury Prize victory a “nail in the coffin” of the annual award, noting that the “obscure Leeds quartet” had created more “cerebral, arty, scruffily independent music that serious music cognoscenti admire but fewer and fewer people actually buy.”

To review then, the guys in Alt-J are simultaneously too complex and independent for a pop music prize and too middle-of-the-road and compromising for an indie stamp of approval.

“I mean, what can you say to that?” Green says with a laugh. “Reading stuff like that, we can only find it amusing, really, because we never set out to be labeled in any kind of way. So for somebody to think about it that much—to actually say we’re ‘too cerebral’ to win a prize—I don’t know. I guess they’re entitled to their opinion. And the Pitchfork review… it seemed as if we personally offended them somehow. It was just like, ‘could you possibly hate anything in life as much as you hate our album?’ [laughs] I honestly can’t understand how we got a 4.9 or whatever. It seemed like a zero would have been more in line with what was written.”

The good news for Alt-J-- as they bring their Awesome Wave back across the Atlantic—is that an old adage still rings true: “the more people you’re pissing off, the more you must be doing something right.” And with a slew of festival appearances and sold out shows at increasingly larger venues, the evidence seems pretty convincing. They might not be the next cult heroes or the next chart toppers, but ∆ is going to be around for while.

Cymbals Eat Guitars

Cymbals Eat Guitars
Indie-Rock Rookies Have a Healthy Appetite for the '90s
By Andrew Clayman
Published in The Nashville Scene, March 2010



Once a respected, elitist pastime akin to speaking Latin or breeding show dogs, music snobbery is now a cheap commodity of sorts — as downloadable as a random Radiohead B-side. Thanks to sites like Pitchfork, your 20 years of meticulous research into the inner workings of the band Pavement are now easily accessible to any literate kid with broadband and a free afternoon. Worse yet, that same kid will almost inevitably go out and start his own band, which snobs everywhere will soon be required to take notice of. In this case, that band is called Cymbals Eat Guitars, a New York quartet that sounds far more informed, refined, and ambitious than any group of college-age kids ought to.

The aforementioned "kid" and frontman of Cymbals Eat Guitars is Joseph D'Agostino (aka Joseph Ferocious), a 21-year-old New Jersey native who was in diapers when Pavement first formed, and 10 when they broke up. In some respects, he's the prototype for the perfect modern-day music snob — absorbing the history and complexities of the '90s indie-rock he mostly missed out on (early Built to Spill, Bedhead, Modest Mouse, etc.) and channeling them into an explosive new sound with a wider, more contextually aware focus. Almost disappointingly, though, D'Agostino doesn't exactly come across like much of a snob. Instead, the singer-guitarist is humble, grounded, and routinely star-struck when he recounts Cymbals Eat Guitars' whirlwind year since the release of their acclaimed debut Why There Are Mountains.

"I mean, every time we go to a new city, or a new country, and find that there are people willing to pay hard-earned money to see us play — I cannot express how gratifying it is, how exultant an experience it is each time," he says. "Playing in front of thousands of people at the Pitchfork festival; opening for the Flaming Lips in London and watching the explosion of confetti and lights at the beginning of 'Race for the Prize' with tears of joy running down my face; standing next to my parents who had traveled to London to watch us; meeting Nels Cline in Germany where we shared a festival bill with Wilco on my 21st birthday!"

Suffice it to say, D'Agostino's list of highlights goes on for a while, but he describes each moment more with wide-eyed disbelief than a sense of entitlement. That's a refreshing departure from the too-cool-for-school perspective you'll often get from other so-called "Pitchfork artists" — the indie-rock acts that shoot to stardom after a strong review from the influential website. Still, D'Agostino has no interest in disassociating himself from the Pitchfork tag or its sometimes backlash-enticing connotations. He might be young, but he certainly has learned not to bite the hand that feeds (Pitchfork gave Why There Are Mountains a superb 8.3 rating out of 10).

"I couldn't be happier to be associated with Pitchfork," D'Agostino says. "I have been a devout daily reader for years and years, since my freshman year of high school, really. I would wake up at 6 a.m. before I had to catch the bus and read each review carefully. I discovered The Meadowlands [a 2003 LP by the Wrens], Transaction De Novo [a 1998 LP by Bedhead], Emergency & I [a 1999 LP by The Dismemberment Plan], Internal Wrangler [a 2000 LP by Clinic], and pretty much every big record of my life through Pitchfork. In those days, there would be meta concept reviews and a lot of eccentricity that they've since reined in, but I dig the serious, analytic music journalism too, so it's all good. I mean, [Pitchfork's review of Why There Are Mountains] instantly granted us an audience. One could definitely argue that the devotion level of every new fan may not be lifelong, but how often are fans unshakably 'for real'? I feel like we still have a lot more to prove to everyone, anyway, starting with making a bangin' second record."

In regards to that much-anticipated follow-up, D'Agostino says Cymbals Eat Guitars will "certainly" ink a deal with a label this time around (their first was self-released), and he seems confident the band can top itself despite the huge sound of their debut.

"We can do so much better!" he says. "Since our lineup solidified, we've really learned how to play with one another and write songs that sound good with four people playing them, rather than playing catch-up to an overdubby behemoth of a record. I think folks can expect a more focused, economical record with more interesting, ornate guitar work and much more melody and lyrical complexity and heft."

Fair enough, but what can they expect from the big Pavement reunion this summer? Greatness or a cash grab?

D'Agostino chuckles. "Can't it be both? Just so long as they don't make another record, right?" Ah, spoken like a true music snob.