Nada Surf
The Well Continues to Deepen
2008-03-19
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Nada Surf’s history as a band is in some ways a story of survival. Founding members Matthew Caws (guitar, vocals) and Daniel Lorca (bass) began the group in Brooklyn circa 1993. Moderate success was found early on within the alternative scene, but not until linking with drummer Ira Elliot in 1995 did the band hit stride. Upon connecting with former Cars member Ric Ocasek in Southern California, Nada Surf was able to negotiate a contract with Elektra and proceeded to release their 1996 debut, High/Low. In a matter of months the trio was riding the wave of a runaway hit with “Popular,” though mainstream success proved to be fleeting as Elektra refused to release Nada Surf’s second offering without a true single. The group was eventually dropped, and spent two years fighting to release The Proximity Effect independently. Nada Surf did however get the last laugh—the group maintained a large fanbase and has released four additional full-lengths, including their shiny new LP, Lucky. Nada Surf has been represented by Barsuk Records since 2003, and is currently on the brink of three months worth of American and European touring. Recently, Synthesis caught up with frontman Matthew Caws.
In February, Nada Surf released their fifth album, Lucky. How do you feel about the response thus far?
I really have no complaints about how it’s been received. The only negatives—it’s kind of classic—there’s sometimes people who wish we stayed in a particular era. But that’s the way it always is. There’s some people who like The Proximity Effect, kind of hard rock, pop music the most. And then the other thing of course, and there’s nothing I can say about it, is often they’re like “They’ll never make Let Go again,” but that’s fine too. It’s like watching a horserace.
I understand you guys took a slightly different approach to composing the album material this time around.
What’s become different the last few years is that Daniel, our bass player, doesn’t live here anymore; he lives in Vienna. So we have to get together for concentrated periods, which is really different than how it went down ten years ago or fifteen years ago in our previous band… We’d just go to practice two or three times a week and see what happened for months on end. But we can’t really afford that kind of pace anymore, so now it’s really these concentrated periods — which are great, but they’re tough for me ‘cause if I run out of stuff then we’re stuck.
Lucky was recorded out west in Seattle with John Goodmanson [Blonde Redhead, Sleater Kinney], who had worked on a portion of 2005’s The Weigh Is a Gift. How was the experience for a full record?
Amazing. He’s really, really good. He’s very laid back, and it didn’t take very long for me to relax so much that I was able to do some things that I couldn’t do in front of anyone else, which was rewrite lyrics and stuff. There were a couple of times when we were doing vocals and all of a sudden I said, “You know what, I don’t know. I don’t know about this verse, I gotta go fool with it.” I would disappear into the other room for 15 minutes or a half hour and actually show him, which I normally wouldn’t be able to do. He was not unnecessarily judgmental.
When I look at Nada Surf in roughly a 10-year scope—say from High/Low to Lucky—there’s definite changes in your musical style, as you alluded to earlier. Do you still feel connected to the older material?
Well, it’s sort of like old school friends or something. I’m not really connected to them anymore but I really know them very well [laughs]. Sometimes it actually sounds like a different singer to me—which is really weird — when I hear things off the first two records. I think my voice changed just physically, because I’m not doing anything different and I’ve never wanted to sound like anything other than just talking with notes. I don’t smoke a lot of cigarettes but I do sometimes—a very occasional binger. So I don’t know if it’s that…[but] for some reason I’ve enjoyed singing higher and higher as the years go by. I probably feel less self-conscious and free when singing is actually a physical act, and it’s only really physical when I have to push a little bit and I only have to push if I’m singing high. Because if I’m not singing high and I’m pushing then I’m just screaming, and I don’t want to scream.
The alternative pop scene of the mid- to late ‘90s that marked Nada Surf’s breakout is largely a thing of the past. Do you miss that time at all?
Well I’m not gonna miss it on April 5th when we’re playing Terminal 5 in New York with Superdrag as double headliners. That’s going to be like 1996 all over again. [But] there’s something in the late ‘80s early ‘90s that I miss as a consumer. I guess the period where it was like Pixies, Pixies, Pixies, Pavement, Pavement, Pavement with Sonic Youth all along—that was a really exciting time and the peak of my fan happiness. But as far as being in a band I don’t miss the sort of commercial alternative heyday, because that actually became a burden in terms of potential…there was this moment when the perception was that a band like this—now it’s called indie rock then it was called college rock—could generate a fucking smash song, and that’s not really a reality anymore. And that’s good because it doesn’t really belong there. As a fluke, okay, but you don’t want to be thinking that way when you’re making what you hope is just a good honest record.
In February, Nada Surf released their fifth album, Lucky. How do you feel about the response thus far?
I really have no complaints about how it’s been received. The only negatives—it’s kind of classic—there’s sometimes people who wish we stayed in a particular era. But that’s the way it always is. There’s some people who like The Proximity Effect, kind of hard rock, pop music the most. And then the other thing of course, and there’s nothing I can say about it, is often they’re like “They’ll never make Let Go again,” but that’s fine too. It’s like watching a horserace.
I understand you guys took a slightly different approach to composing the album material this time around.
What’s become different the last few years is that Daniel, our bass player, doesn’t live here anymore; he lives in Vienna. So we have to get together for concentrated periods, which is really different than how it went down ten years ago or fifteen years ago in our previous band… We’d just go to practice two or three times a week and see what happened for months on end. But we can’t really afford that kind of pace anymore, so now it’s really these concentrated periods — which are great, but they’re tough for me ‘cause if I run out of stuff then we’re stuck.
Lucky was recorded out west in Seattle with John Goodmanson [Blonde Redhead, Sleater Kinney], who had worked on a portion of 2005’s The Weigh Is a Gift. How was the experience for a full record?
Amazing. He’s really, really good. He’s very laid back, and it didn’t take very long for me to relax so much that I was able to do some things that I couldn’t do in front of anyone else, which was rewrite lyrics and stuff. There were a couple of times when we were doing vocals and all of a sudden I said, “You know what, I don’t know. I don’t know about this verse, I gotta go fool with it.” I would disappear into the other room for 15 minutes or a half hour and actually show him, which I normally wouldn’t be able to do. He was not unnecessarily judgmental.
When I look at Nada Surf in roughly a 10-year scope—say from High/Low to Lucky—there’s definite changes in your musical style, as you alluded to earlier. Do you still feel connected to the older material?
Well, it’s sort of like old school friends or something. I’m not really connected to them anymore but I really know them very well [laughs]. Sometimes it actually sounds like a different singer to me—which is really weird — when I hear things off the first two records. I think my voice changed just physically, because I’m not doing anything different and I’ve never wanted to sound like anything other than just talking with notes. I don’t smoke a lot of cigarettes but I do sometimes—a very occasional binger. So I don’t know if it’s that…[but] for some reason I’ve enjoyed singing higher and higher as the years go by. I probably feel less self-conscious and free when singing is actually a physical act, and it’s only really physical when I have to push a little bit and I only have to push if I’m singing high. Because if I’m not singing high and I’m pushing then I’m just screaming, and I don’t want to scream.
The alternative pop scene of the mid- to late ‘90s that marked Nada Surf’s breakout is largely a thing of the past. Do you miss that time at all?
Well I’m not gonna miss it on April 5th when we’re playing Terminal 5 in New York with Superdrag as double headliners. That’s going to be like 1996 all over again. [But] there’s something in the late ‘80s early ‘90s that I miss as a consumer. I guess the period where it was like Pixies, Pixies, Pixies, Pavement, Pavement, Pavement with Sonic Youth all along—that was a really exciting time and the peak of my fan happiness. But as far as being in a band I don’t miss the sort of commercial alternative heyday, because that actually became a burden in terms of potential…there was this moment when the perception was that a band like this—now it’s called indie rock then it was called college rock—could generate a fucking smash song, and that’s not really a reality anymore. And that’s good because it doesn’t really belong there. As a fluke, okay, but you don’t want to be thinking that way when you’re making what you hope is just a good honest record.
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