Guillermo CastroIf I asked you to name your favorite concept albums, or at the very least some famous ones, my guess is you would be able to rattle off quite a few titles. But what about concept bands? After all, it’s one thing for an artist to develop a song cycle around a defined narrative and a specific set of themes and characters. But it’s another thing entirely for an artist to use those same elements as both the bedrock and guiding beacon for their entire body of work.
In September 2014, when former Haricot Vert drummer Kip Thomas and guitarist Shawn Christopher came together with bassist Jimmy Ether to start a new project, there was no intention of pursuing some grand design. But what years of grinding away in the trenches had taught the trio was that good lyrics and compelling content were hard to come by. So they began to toss around ideas for how to ground their music in some sort of structural framework. What the threesome settled on was something oddly specific and yet uniquely relevant to our current cultural and political climate.
“Shawn brought up the idea of doing an album with a Nixon-era theme and then Jimmy suggested using the White House transcript tapes that are widely available online,” Thomas explains. “Ironically, it was a little liberating to be constrained by a framework with regard to lyrics—we could really focus on the music.”
Over the past five years, Thomas and his compatriots have expanded on that core concept, constructing a series of releases taken directly from recordings Nixon and his staff taped during his tenure. Calling themselves Victory Hands, the group marries angular riffs and churning rhythms to create a dense and swirling brand of noisy rock and post-punk. Their songs are loud and abrasive yet methodical in their anthemic thrust, reflecting, as the band puts it, “the paranoia, stilted language and rah-rah aggression of Nixon and cohorts.”
Released last week, the six-song Bishop EP marks Victory Hand’s third release and their defining statement to date. Like previous entries Anderson and Bernstein, the record is named after one of the journalists on Nixon’s published enemies list, a convention the band plans to continue until the list has been exhausted. Musically, it’s the group’s most ambitious effort, one that embraces a wide spectrum of sounds and styles, from the lurching push and pull of “Top Brass” to the sprightly math-pop sheen of “This Kitchen” to the rumbling tension of closer “All in the Family.”
Recently, the band added bassist Dain Johnson to their ranks, with Ether making the move over to guitar. According to Thomas, this transition has allowed Victory Hands to pursue music that is denser and more melodic, a development which will soon be heard on the slew of releases the now quartet plan to unveil in the near future (the band has already tracked and recorded the upcoming four-song Bradlee EP, with another 7″ and a Watergate-themed double LP also in the works). In the meantime, I reached out to Thomas to discuss the group’s origins, the evolution of their sound and aesthetic, and why they choose to rarely play live.
Set the scene for us a little. When and how did the idea for Victory Hands come about?
Shawn and I played together in Haricot Vert during the late ‘90s [and] early ‘00s and continued to work together with a revolving cast of really talented singers, guitarists, and bassists, sometimes playing together long enough to record or play a few shows (The Forever War, Heir Apparent, Turndownservice) with nothing really settling down or feeling like it was completely gelling. Enter Jimmy, who had played with Shawn many years previous to our time together. But Jimmy was a guitarist first and had to take one for the team and play bass with us. Things really clicked immediately. This was September 2014.
Coming up with decent lyrics is always a problem. Haricot Vert vocals were mostly soundings and phrases that were not intended to make the most sense. So with the yet-as-unnamed Victory Hands, we considered some sort of source with a lot of content. Shawn brought up the idea of doing an album with a Nixon-era theme and then Jimmy suggested using the White House transcript tapes that are widely available online. Ironically, it was a little liberating to be constrained by a framework with regard to lyrics—we could really focus on the music.
After the first couple songs succeeded with the Nixon lyrics, Jimmy suggested Victory Hands for the band name. And it was instant mid-practice agreement. Victory Hands works so well because it just represents such stubbornness in the face of defeat. Nixon flashed those Vs even as he was whisked away at the very final end, even after his final salute before boarding Marine One. So it was really kind of random but felt like an interesting path to pursue.
Why Nixon, exactly? Was this all history you were familiar with before getting started?
We were all aware that there was a tremendous amount of recordings made during his time in office; there would certainly be enough for a full album with a common theme. We figured on the next album we might pull from someone or something else. But as we started to get into it, we began to realize the sheer immensity of what was available. That and the incredible diversity of the recorded conversations. These recordings are not all political rant and debates. We found discussions of current events, baseball, TV shows, etc. Many transcripts that we could pull from had flippant and less serious moments. Everything was recorded and all of it is public domain and searchable. Many petty, unimportant but humorous conversations were taped.
For example, a recorded, but yet to-be-released song, “Hard Hat,” documents a long, mostly one-sided Nixon rant simultaneously praising and damning All in the Family and the younger, coming up generation. This was all very unintentional. At times it feels like this conceptual band, Victory Hands, has a mind of its own and were are just following along. It’s definitely been a little strange and we have embraced that. We didn’t know anything more about Nixon than any other average Joe.
How did some of the other machinations come about? For instance, using the enemies list. Did you plan that from the beginning?
Yeah, once the songwriting was picking up speed we knew we would start recording some of the songs and then hopefully start releasing them on vinyl. And similar to the struggles that bands have with creating decent lyrics, release titles are another notorious challenge. I think Jimmy mentioned at some point Nixon’s published enemies list. It’s long. We decided to use the journalists portion—start with A and go alphabetically. If we make it all the way through the list and exhaust all the names, I think we can view that alone as a serious accomplishment.
And then all of this really began to turn into ultra-planning: we designed a format that all the release packaging would adhere to; we picked a condensed utilitarian font to use everywhere; we would record, mix, and master all our releases ourselves; we would have a different artist handle all the illustrations for a specific release but follow the established “line art” look that we stamp in foil (a la Raymond Pettibon, who handled the Minutemen artwork). We wanted the first release to already have the established look rather than catching on with later releases and wishing we had taken the time to figure out what we wanted from the very beginning. These were the major considerations. There are plenty of smaller little details and Easter eggs lurking within everything.
I was going to ask you about the artwork and who was responsible for it. It’s interesting that you’ve different artists, considering how cohesive the aesthetic is. How do you go about seeking who to collaborate with? Are these all artists you know and have a relationship with?
We’ve been pretty fortunate finding people to do the illustrations. As a band, we know quite a few artists that are happy to help out, but we can see an upcoming time when we’ll have to start working a bit to find new illustrators, so that we’re not repeating. When we ask someone to contribute and they agree, we send them the early, sometimes unmixed recordings so they can begin sketching out what might work. We ask for one illustration per song and that it must be line art and kept to black and white. We offer general suggestions about what might work for some of the songs, but the final result is entirely up to them. The next single, Braden, already has a finished drawing that is a pretty odd, creepy interpretation of “Everyone Loves a Parade.” We handle all of the graphics and printing beyond that.
We also have a special version of each release (limited to 40). The limited Anderson 10″ has a sewn together leather jacket, stamped in black foil like the regular version. If you get a copy of the limited Bernstein 7″, the jacket is an actual printing plate used on press. The limited Bishop 12″ will have an extra outer jacket wrapped in a linen cloth material with a vintage early ‘70s era tie stitched onto it. We’ll have something different for every release. We’re just trying to have as much fun as possible with everything we do for the band.
A lot of what we do and are doing comes from experience. We’ve each been in multiple bands that have released albums and singles and we remembered some of our missteps: don’t wait to record, don’t try to be a master poet with your lyrics, don’t try to come up with clever album titles, decide on how you will release your music and then focus on the songwriting. Without that last part, all the rest is a waste. So having established from the beginning what we wanted to do, we could then focus on writing and recording the next 40 releases.
Talk a little, then, about your writing process. Do you have selected segments from the recordings that you write to or does the music generally come first?
Almost each song starts with Shawn on guitar and a couple lines. It involves all of us cycling his early melodies to see what derivations develop organically. The songs might seem complex with many parts, but each comes from a core beginning that is revisited or reshaped. Pretty early on, we look for a transcript or speech that feels like what we’re working on.
For example, the early developing music on “Tonight He Stands” felt hopeful yet contemplative. So we took lyrics from Nixon’s acceptance speech at the 1968 Republican Presidential Nomination. And so this was one of Nixon’s most important, celebratory speeches and the song ascends and grows confident as it moves forward with a peak of triumph before it descends back down at the end. This speech lacks the gravitas, weight, and responsibility of his presidential election victory speech from later that year. This is all optimism and anticipation, speaking before all his fellow Republicans that applaud every word. [It’s] perhaps the highest, most positive moment for Nixon’s career. He believed the election was his to lose.
This all probably seems corny, but once we get into the lyrics, they begin to shape and drive the song and we follow where it goes. And now we are presently going against all this theory, as we have outlined all the songs for a Watergate release (subject matter we have intentionally avoided before now). We did this before any music had been written. We’re three songs in and it’s about as thematic as we can get and that’s saying something.
Have you ever felt stymied or boxed in by the Nixon concept and asked yourself “what did we get ourselves into?”
No, not stymied or limited. Most artists will tell you it’s good to have some parameters to work within—it can help provide focus. And with Nixon there is such an abundance of varied material. There are a few moments of “this is so strange, I guess we’re committed now!” But the source material never limits what we can do musically. Ask us again in ten years and we might have a different answer.
Let’s talk about your new record, Bishop. Musically, what do you think separates this record from Anderson and Berntein?
With Anderson, we were really just beginning to figure out our aesthetic for songwriting and sound. We did make a conscious decision to not start with our first two written songs. The two that we did use were maybe the fifth and sixth songs we had written and finished. Two more early songs were used on the Bernstein B-side and are lo-fi studio recordings—very raw and undeveloped.
Bishop was really where we started to hit our stride with the full blend of lyrics, songwriting, and production. There was a bit of explosion in writing at this time—the four-song Bradlee 12″ was written along with Bishop and has been completely tracked and recorded. It just needs mixing and mastering to be pressed.
And then we will be reworking our two earliest songs, “Hard Hat” and “Sugar Situation,” now that Dain has been added, and those songs are expected to comprise the upcoming Bruckner 7″. We have just finished writing the aforementioned Braden, which will be a two-song 7″ and we’ll track that in the next couple months. This probably seems all very confusing as we are also in the middle of writing the double 12″ Watergate-themed Cavett (as in Dick Cavett), but we outline things well in advance. And we still have the whole rest of the alphabet to get through!
You started off as a trio and have now expanded into a quartet. How has that transition affected the band?
The transition to add Dain has been extremely smooth. The guy is a vet and very talented. Jimmy, Dain, and I were already playing together in the alter ego, Loud Humans, which shares a practice space with Victory Hands. Jimmy is a guitarist first so it was nothing to move over from bass. Dain’s bass style tends to be roving and melodic, where Jimmy’s was a bit more like a guitarist playing bass—riff rock. So, the new material is starting to get a bit more melodic overall. But it’s also a lot more dense just because of the extra guitar.
Recently, you were on the Creative Loafing podcast and talked about some of the parallels between Nixon and Trump. What influence, if any, has the current administration had on your work?
None, really. But the present Idiot-in-Chief helps you realize that Nixon was a pretty good, well-meaning guy in comparison. The Nixon thing was always more of an abstract motif. It is completely accidental that our use of the paranoia and posturing of the Nixon administration has any similarities to the current administration. It is an eerie coincidence, though. But we’ll still be doing this long after Trump is gone.
There is such a defined aesthetic for all your album artwork, and yet “Top Brass” remains your sole music video. Are there any future productions in the works?
Yes, we’d love to make a video for every song if time allowed. We might have a video for “This Kitchen,” from Bishop, out later this year. We’ve been talking about it. We really have no good excuse to not do this—we have the means of production—we’re just struggling to find the time along with everything else we’re doing.
You don’t perform live very often. Why is that? Do you have any plans to play shows after Bishop is released?
Victory Hands has always been more of a songwriting studio band. We don’t really play the accessible, easy to follow rock that people want to see weekend after weekend. A few shows a year is really plenty for us. We have been discussing playing out and we want to book a couple shows for 2020. After all, it is an election year.
More Info
Bandcamp: victoryhands.bandcamp.com
Facebook: @victory.hands