Spencer Krug’s debut LP from his solo-project, Moonface, titled Organ Music Not Vibraphone Like I’d Hoped via Jagjaguwar. After a week Sarah started to dig it while Brandon said it didn’t make him want to stab himself in the face with a rusty spade. That’s a good thing, right? All five parts of what turned into a rather strange conversation after the jump.
From: Sarah Braunstein
To: Brandon Hall
Spencer Krug released (today!) his first full album as Moonface with the charmingly honest title Organ Music Not Vibraphone Like I’d Hoped. Krug is a familiar face and voice these days, racking up a veritable laundry list of bands, side-projects, side-side projects, musical alter egos and the like. My first encounter with Krug was in 2004 at the Royal Oak Music Theater when Wolf Parade opened up for Modest Mouse two nights in a row (yes, I went to both shows). I liked their brand of stompy, spooky rock and picked up the pre-Sub Pop 6 Song EP, which still has my favorite version of “Dear Sons and Daughters of Holy Ghosts.”
That was seven years ago and Krug hasn’t gotten a full night of sleep since. Or so one would think given the body of work he’s produced including a couple of albums with Frog Eyes, a gaggle of Sunset Rubdown EPs and LPs, two albums with Swan Lake, and three LPs with the aforementioned Wolf Parade. These were all group projects but with Moonface, we get Krug doing his own thang sans collaborators.
From a lyrics perspective, I place him in a similar category as Dan Bejar, penning lines and even full songs whose words are brilliant (and oftentimes, over my head). They both seem to be the frenzied auteurs of their respective sounds — a little mad scientist-y, both producing expansive catalogs — although Krug certainly beats Bejar on the number of hats he wears.
Before we get into the weeds of Organ Music…, I wanted to get your take on Krug’s body of work to date. Are you familiar with his first EP as Moonface (titled Dreamland EP: Marimba and Shit-Drums)? Are you particularly drawn to any of his musical projects or are you Krug-ed out?
A letter instead of a kiss,
Sarah
MARIMBA AND SHIT-DRUMS part 1
MARIMBA AND SHIT-DRUMS part 2
From: Brandon Hall
To: Sarah Braunstein
As a matter of fact, I am relatively familiar with his debut Moonface EP, Marimba and Shit Drums, a 20 minute examination of all Krug could think to do with a marimba and Garage Band drums. (I can’t verify that he used Garage Band in the production of his apply named “shit drums” but it would surprise no one.) (Also, we posted it in two parts in Part 1 of this Dialectic.) Anyway, as with most of Krug’s projects, be they Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown, Swan Lake, Frog Eyes, or Moonface, the single 20 minute song is bloated in reverie and self-satisfaction, while frequently showcasing Krug’s innate sense for writing a hook and ever impressive ability to pull a melody from a deluge of experimentation. In fact, the middle part of the song, from about the 8 minute mark to the 15 minute mark, probably ranks right up there with the best music Krug has ever written. And I say that without hyperbole. OK – maybe a little hyperbole. But it is truly great.
Still, we’re here to talk about the Moonface debut LP, Organ Music Not Vibraphone Like I’d Hoped. Once again, it is an exploration of a single instrument, and like a dead horse, Krug makes sure to beat the hell out of it. The five songs averaging 7 minutes a piece, are, at times, eternally repetitive both within the songs themselves and throughout the album – a kind of ceaseless organ meets old school Nintendo and Casio keyboard melange. Really, the only song to break this mold is the last one, “Loose Heart = Loose Plan,” which is not remotely a standout track for any reason beyond that it uses moderately different sounds and a fresh composition.
You asked how I felt about Krug’s projects and whether or not I was Krug’d out. The thing about Organ Music is there are moments in just about every song where he really grabs me, where the combination of his musical exploration, his lyrical prowess, and his indefatigable ability to write a hook make me think for a moment, “Holy shit, this is good.” But as with a lot of what Krug does, that moment is fleeting. For instance, the first time I heard “Whale Song (Song Instead of a Kiss),” a song that coincidentally shares similarities with that other popular whale-referencing track from Krug’s past, Wolf Parade’s “Grounds for Divorce,” I bought right in; I turned that sucker up, closed my eyes, and rocked out. But subsequent listens have mellowed that sentiment and given way to a general feeling of malaise and slight aggravation at the song’s fluttering computerized inertia, like treading water in a pool that’s slowly rising, when really what I want is that “waterfall waiting inside a well,” he sang about in “Us Ones In Between” on Sunset Rubdown’s debut Shut Up I Am Dreaming.
I think Spencer Krug is probably a genius. I also think that’s probably his biggest detriment. His and ours. Were he forced to work in the studio system in the 50s and 60s, he probably would have written and produced 50 #1 hits and been wealthy beyond his wildest imagination. He also would have hated it – not the money, the work. I don’t think there are many songwriters who can write a melody or a hook as easily as Krug. You mentioned Dan Bejar, but I bet Bejar wishes he could pull insanely catchy choruses out of his ass the way Krug seems capable of doing. But that also seems to bore our tragic hero, because he’s never been satisfied writing something as glorious as “I’ll Believe in Anything” or “Grounds for Divorce,” or “Sons and Daughters of Holy Ghosts,” preferring, rather, to explore the far limits of pop music structure and composition, making songs that toy with catchiness only to be subverted by unnecessary and often exasperating pomp and grandeur.
Am I tired of it? As you know, I loved Sunset Rubdown’s Dragonslayer. I thought it was absolutely one of the best albums of 2009. And it was the only time since Wolf Parade’s Apologies to the Queen Mary, that Krug was able to match his penchant for experimental avant-garde electronic pop and oblique Byzantine lyrics with air tight songwriting, soaring melodies, and catchy-as-all-hell hooks.
That, I will never tire of. Organ Music is not that.
“He told me all about it on the balcony, while we were high on drugs,”
Brandon
From: Sarah Braunstein
To: Brandon Hall
I did not take to Organ Music at all until the third or fourth pass at it, but albums like this always require a few warm-up rounds for me, particularly when each track is over 6 minutes long. Unless it’s Wolf Parade, listening to Krug’s work is not about instant gratification. Rather than rocking out and making music that will sell out venues – which he can do easily – Krug seems to be turning to Moonface as an avenue for self-growth, pushing himself to create music that’s true to his aesthetic with different (and very limited) sets of tools for each album. It’s his form of “continuing education” and he keeps himself accountable for completing it by sharing it with the rest of the world. In “Return to the Violence of the Ocean Floor,” Krug basically defines Moonface for his listeners in a similar light: “I’ve got a spirit made out of sand / sometimes it slips through my fingers…So I kneel down / And gather it up / Grain by grain / I have to keep it safe / I still have some things to say.”
For me, the Moonface project also demonstrates how hyper self-aware Krug is, which contributes to his particular brand of “genius.” With Organ Music Krug set the paradigm — procure a vintage double-manual organ and create a drone-filled, noisy album — and then spends the rest of the time rebelling against that set of restrictions. He wrote the press release for the album and mentions “a little dude who lives inside me that loves pop music.” So we have Krug, working on some layered, droney, noise-rock while fully aware that he’d prefer to be pulling together some 1-4-5 chord progressions. unable to defeat that urge, we’re left with an album that, in turn, encourages both floor-laying and the head-bobbing-knees-bending dance that is so common at indie rock shows.
I think it’s worth sharing the rest of that “little pop dude” quote from Krug’s press release (Note: Spencer, we all have that little pop-loving dude inside of us):
“You see, I have a little dude who lives inside me that loves pop music, and he sometimes finds his way into my hands. When this happens, my fingers move toward the catchiest melodies they can, like bees to flowers with the most pollen. It can’t be helped. The little pop-dude inside me turns a few notes into a melody and I say, ‘Okay, that’s nice little dude, a little poppy maybe, but nice, maybe we can use that once, somewhere in the song.’ And he says, ‘But wouldn’t you rather hear it over and over again? Maybe throw it in a few times now, and then a few times again towards the end of the song? And maybe that ‘drone’ in your left hand would sound better if you moved it up and down the keyboard a little bit.’ But then I say, ‘Come on little dude, I’m no fool, that’s just a chord progression you’re trying to get out of me. Next thing you know we’ll be repeating it over and over again, the melody will be a hook, and I’ll have made another random half-pop song.’ And then the little dude says, ‘WTF, man.’ And then I say, ‘Okay little dude, okay, party on.'”
Last point I want to make before handing it off to you: I’m really glad that the vibraphone thing didn’t work out. Although you can use different types of mallets to strike the keys, bow them, or change the speed of the spinning valves to toy with the vibrato, I think Krug really found himself in the organ. We’ve got layering, we’ve got driving rhythms, rockin’ organ solos (see 4:00 on “Shit-Hawk in the Snow”), etc. There’s enough variety in sound effects that Krug incorporates that I don’t feel like I just spent 40 minutes listening to the same instrument. Something tells me that wouldn’t be the case with Christine Balfa’s 55 minutes of solo triangle.
But I digress. I’m glad that Krug chose an instrument that allows him to use all ten of his fingers at once.
“You should have been a writer, you should have played guitar”
Sarah
From: Brandon Hall
To: Sarah Braunstein
So, wait. Do you like Organ Music? Like, like-like? Or like, “meh it’s fine; it doesn’t make me want to stab myself in the face with a rusty spade.” Because I take the latter. If anything, it’s one of a few albums I might throw on when entertaining people to either show how pretentious and into obscure music I am because I’m an insecure, vainglorious schlub, or to make them as uncomfortable as possible because I don’t particularly care for them and know they probably wouldn’t have the gumption to ask me to turn it off. We have to be polite, after all.
But I should also mention, were it not obvious, that those people at my hypothetical party suck. This album isn’t offensive or even difficult, but it is frequently boring and occasionally annoying.
I also take exception to a couple things you said. For one, you mention that the Moonface project for Krug is an “avenue for self-growth.” I would counter that unchecked, unedited creative dalliances for which you need make no defense to anyone but yourself offer little to no self-growth. In a band, you have to defend your choices, for the most part, to your band mates. And if your stuff gets tired or repetitive, someone’s probably going to tell you. I mentioned this with Greg a couple weeks ago when we discussed Pinkerton. Rivers best stuff came when he was fighting with Matt Sharp. Jeff Tweedy’s best work came in his battles with Jay Bennett. Wes Anderson/Owen Wilson. Charlie Kaufman/Michelle Gondry.
Also, wasn’t Sunset Rubdown the band with which he was supposed to be able to do whatever the hell he wanted? I actually think his best effort to date was Apologies to the Queen Mary, Wolf Parade’s first album, which sounds like the album of a unified band, whose two lead singers, Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug, hadn’t yet become auteur’s and whose side projects hadn’t yet taken off, or even been formed. They spent that album battling, stanching each others’ less crowd pleasing inclinations and pushing each other to greater heights – heights they can not and have not achieved since, as their focus was driven to their separate bands (Handsome Furs and Sunset Rubdown) and ensuing Wolf Parade albums just sounded like a mix of songs from each of those two disparate groups, rather than a unified whole.
Furthermore, when you said “There’s enough variety…that I don’t feel like I just spent 40 minutes listening to the same instrument.” Well, true, I suppose. These songs did feel, more or less filled out. But if there was more than one sound, there weren’t more than five. As for what the songs did, well, I wouldn’t say they varied.
And finally, “rockin’ organ solo?” Rockin organ solo!? I think I may have sent you the wrong album because I don’t think we were listening to the same thing.
“I am the singer at the bottom of the world,”
Brandon
Download Moonface – “Fast Peter” (mp3)
From: Sarah Braunstein
To: Brandon Hall
Dramatic! Brandon, I don’t have time to respond to this as fully as I’d like (I received a free pass to Lollapalooza that I have to make good use of), but I couldn’t leave all of these ends so open.
I wouldn’t say that I like-like the album although I do like-like a couple of tracks (the opener and “Fast Peter”), and I like-like a lot of moments throughout the course of the album. Despite my strong imagination, I don’t see myself playing this album for a terrible group of people at a hypothetical party nor do I see myself getting in the mood to play Organ Music in full on a weekend morning. Some of the tracks might make a mix that I put together for MEO (“my ears only”), but that’s about it.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I should also mention that my maternal grandmother had a fantastically retro (and dusty) organ in her basement that occupied many a family visit in my youth. I suppose I might be biased.
“One, we got the spirit. Two, we got the music. Three we got the past and four, we got the future.”
Sarah
AudioVole 
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