Hate Yourself? Smile
Jake Bellows and Neva Dinova
2005-02-18
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People don’t smile enough. It’s really a shame, too, because the simple
act of smiling can have a profound effect. Even when you have nothing to grin
about, letting one crack across your lips can be contagious. This is something
that Neva Dinova’s Jake Bellows is highly aware of, mostly because he himself
is guilty of not smiling much.
“I try and surround myself with people who do [smile] so that nobody notices,” he confesses. Bellows, singer/songwriter of Omaha, Nebraska’s Neva Dinova, goes on to say that one of the most important lessons he learned from his grandmother, whom he named his band after, is to appreciate where you are. And to smile. “Man, you know, she always smiled a lot,” he remembers, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette. “She appreciated where she was.” After years of performing his tender and desolate balladry in obscurity, Neva Dinova should be appreciative of where they are today; smiling over the collective consciousness of the Midwestern indie-folk scene.
There’s a reason why folks have been talking about Jake Bellows and Neva Dinova lately. And as much as one would like to think it’s because of the dedication and sacrifices Bellows has made in order to pursue his heartfelt, tearful music, the singular truth is that most people are talking about Neva Dinova because of the Bright Eyes connection. For over a decade Neva Dinova have been toiling away, riding couches, smoking cigarettes to the filter and dusting beers in relative anonymity. The members comprising his group have shifted like beach sand over the years, but Bellows has remained true to his desire (“For us it was about getting the songs right and being true to your muse”). Conor Oberst, having fallen into the spotlight with the success of Bright Eyes, was a friend and fan of Bellows’ for some time and when the two found coinciding holes in their schedules they got together and brought to fruition a project they had been talking about for years.
In 2004 Bright Eyes and Neva Dinova released a split record, One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels (Crank! Records). Both songwriters wrote three songs individually and collaborated on the recording, providing backing vocals and guitars for each other’s material. The immediate result was Neva Dinova’s introduction to the thronging masses of Bright Eyes fans.
People ask Bellows about this connection “most every time,” he says, but he doesn’t mind; he’s glad for the exposure. “There really isn’t much of a story in our band. We’re not particular good-looking or insanely smart at all, and Conor is like wildfire, everybody’s interested in what he’s up to,” says Bellows. He realizes that there are many wonderful bands out there, but few of them get the kind of publicity necessary to bring them out of the shadows. The collaboration with Bright Eyes shone light on Neva Dinova, and for that, Bellows is thankful. “Shit man, I think that’s pretty nice of him,” he says.
Neva Dinova’s second full-length album, The Hate Yourself Change, released two weeks after Bright Eyes’ recent pair of albums is a lumbering mass of bittersweet, folksy slow-core. As sad and under-spoken as it is beautiful, The Hate Yourself Change recounts in lugubrious meter those oft-forgotten drunken dead-end nights and the stout shoulders of friends who’ve supported Bellows along the way. And while the closing track, “I’ve Got A Feeling,” boasts perhaps the most lamenting chorus ever committed to tape (i.e., a bar full of people singing “The world’s a shitty place / I can’t wait to die”), it dissolves into laughter with Bellows stepping back up to the mic and saying, “Just kidding world, you know I love you.” A little laughter goes a long way to temper the inevitable sadness. Besides, when it comes right down to it, some self-deprecating laughter and a bittersweet smile is better than a frown any day.
“I try and surround myself with people who do [smile] so that nobody notices,” he confesses. Bellows, singer/songwriter of Omaha, Nebraska’s Neva Dinova, goes on to say that one of the most important lessons he learned from his grandmother, whom he named his band after, is to appreciate where you are. And to smile. “Man, you know, she always smiled a lot,” he remembers, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette. “She appreciated where she was.” After years of performing his tender and desolate balladry in obscurity, Neva Dinova should be appreciative of where they are today; smiling over the collective consciousness of the Midwestern indie-folk scene.
There’s a reason why folks have been talking about Jake Bellows and Neva Dinova lately. And as much as one would like to think it’s because of the dedication and sacrifices Bellows has made in order to pursue his heartfelt, tearful music, the singular truth is that most people are talking about Neva Dinova because of the Bright Eyes connection. For over a decade Neva Dinova have been toiling away, riding couches, smoking cigarettes to the filter and dusting beers in relative anonymity. The members comprising his group have shifted like beach sand over the years, but Bellows has remained true to his desire (“For us it was about getting the songs right and being true to your muse”). Conor Oberst, having fallen into the spotlight with the success of Bright Eyes, was a friend and fan of Bellows’ for some time and when the two found coinciding holes in their schedules they got together and brought to fruition a project they had been talking about for years.
In 2004 Bright Eyes and Neva Dinova released a split record, One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels (Crank! Records). Both songwriters wrote three songs individually and collaborated on the recording, providing backing vocals and guitars for each other’s material. The immediate result was Neva Dinova’s introduction to the thronging masses of Bright Eyes fans.
People ask Bellows about this connection “most every time,” he says, but he doesn’t mind; he’s glad for the exposure. “There really isn’t much of a story in our band. We’re not particular good-looking or insanely smart at all, and Conor is like wildfire, everybody’s interested in what he’s up to,” says Bellows. He realizes that there are many wonderful bands out there, but few of them get the kind of publicity necessary to bring them out of the shadows. The collaboration with Bright Eyes shone light on Neva Dinova, and for that, Bellows is thankful. “Shit man, I think that’s pretty nice of him,” he says.
Neva Dinova’s second full-length album, The Hate Yourself Change, released two weeks after Bright Eyes’ recent pair of albums is a lumbering mass of bittersweet, folksy slow-core. As sad and under-spoken as it is beautiful, The Hate Yourself Change recounts in lugubrious meter those oft-forgotten drunken dead-end nights and the stout shoulders of friends who’ve supported Bellows along the way. And while the closing track, “I’ve Got A Feeling,” boasts perhaps the most lamenting chorus ever committed to tape (i.e., a bar full of people singing “The world’s a shitty place / I can’t wait to die”), it dissolves into laughter with Bellows stepping back up to the mic and saying, “Just kidding world, you know I love you.” A little laughter goes a long way to temper the inevitable sadness. Besides, when it comes right down to it, some self-deprecating laughter and a bittersweet smile is better than a frown any day.
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