Songwriters: Echo Echo

You guys have played almost 350 shows since your conception in November of 2003, how do you keep the music you’re writing fresh?

Steve Carson (vocals): We don’t really play the old stuff anymore. After we recorded the first two EP’s, because we were playing so much, when we did get together, we didn’t really have to rehearse because we had so many shows. It gave us an opportunity to write. So filtering in new songs with the 10 songs on the first two EP’s allowed us to keep adding material. I think at one point in time, we had a 22-song set that we could play. Not all of those songs got recorded, but it kind of led up to Fall Like You're Flying. We were able to continue putting songs together, and then we did our own recording. Part of being in a band is playing those same songs over and over again, because that’s why people go to shows. At least with the 14 songs we released in September, I’m not tired of those songs. And some of those songs were written two years prior. I don’t know if it’s the way they’re written, or the quality of song, or what I feel about them. But now we’re writing again, and we’re working on three new songs tonight.

Jameson (guitar): Every time we play a song live, there is a strict structure, but there might be a different energy of that song each night.

Bruce Yolken (bass): And the crowd is different every night.

Jameson: People respond to different ones.

Yolken: Sometimes they just change on their own. Darren and I strive to repeat ourselves everytime and create a framework. But then watching Steve and Jameson on the more creative side night by night, you definitely feel a shift. Their energy changes, and their approach will change a little, and our newest member, Andy, frees Steve up from the keyboard, and now he can connect with the audience more.

Darren Carr (drums): To be honest, I hope to have to the opportunity to play the same group of songs for 10, 20, 30 years. I’d love to be playing these songs forever.

What is it about these songs that are just right?

Carson: I think, for me personally, the first EP we recorded in 2004, I had written most of the songs, and I think we wrote one together as a band. And then the second EP, Jameson and I started collaborating a little more, and everyone started to get their hands in the writing mix. Once we got beyond 2005 and into 2006, a lot of the writing happened in here (the studio), like it was the fifth member of the band. It was where we collaborated as a band, and it was an opportunity for everybody to bring different things in. At different times, Jameson would come in and work things out with Bruce or Darren. Or Jameson and I would meet. Or I’d bring something in. At that point there was a shift towards a more collaborative unit, where we were all writing together. Not necessarily not all four at once, but at some point, we definitely started influencing each other.

So it’s not just one of you handing out parts of a composition to the others?

Carson: What’s cool about the writing process now, and definitely during writing Fall Like Your Flying, was that everybody was interested in what the other person was doing. Or we cared to ask, ‘What do you thin about this? What do you think about that?’ Some of the melodies would work off of certain riffs that Jameson was playing. Or a vocal melody that would maybe moves things. Or some songs Darren had a drum beat he wanted to use. At this point in the evolution of the band, it’s not about saying, ‘You do 70%, you’re doing 10%.’ It doesn’t matter anymore. Most important thing is that we’re collaborating and that, for me personally, is what makes me love the songs more. It’s not just about me writing a song with an acoustic guitar, and then people are adding what they do as musicians and artists into that song. Even listening to the record, I still can listen to it, and wonder, ‘Where did that come from?’ I had nothing to do with that, and how amazing is it that now I’m a fan of something we do, because somebody else in the band took it upon themselves to say, ‘I’ve got a cool idea.’ All right, great! I would have never thought of that.

Jameson: Until we all decide the piece is finished, everybody has creative freedom, up until that point of, ‘Ok, now this is it.’

How do you determine when it’s over? At what length do you feel comfortable cutting a song? Artists like Billy Kernkamp talked about staying within the 3:00 minute pop structure. Where do you stand on that?

Carson: There was that mentality in the beginning; let’s get in and out, and nobody gets hurt. And there are still songs that that works for. There’s no doubt. One of our new songs, I Can’t Be Trusted, is definitely that. Let’s just get in, and get out. So we worked out a lot of these songs, and then when we met with our producers, especially Rupert Hine, he kind of brought this new light about songwriting and the journey. We used to look at the journey as the set, or an album, or the ‘machine.’ We used to talk about the ‘machine’ as a whole set of songs, not the individual pieces. He came to us and said, think about every song as a piece, that can be it’s own journey. I don’t know about you guys, as soon as that transformation with Rupert occurred, and then starting to record the album, I kind of let go of time. I don’t think about time anymore. I think about feeling. Ever since that happened, I never feel like, ‘Man, this is dragging.’ It’s almost like it’s been instilled in us, we just know, it feels right. It’s too short, it’s too long. It’s not a number anymore. Probably in the beginning, especially for young writers, it is a number. Like, ‘Oh man, this is five minutes long.’ But it’s not about that. Does it feel five minutes long?

Yolken: We don’t formulate anymore. Occasionally we’ll write a song where we try to break the rules a little bit consciously. And I think maybe that’s the next step; we’re gonna push for something longer and more vibe oriented that doesn’t go in traditional sections that you would find in all the hits that are on the radio. So it’s more a matter of, we just don’t care. We want to do what’s right for the song, what we feel. And if it makes the cut, great. If it doesn’t, then at least we had a good time.

Carr: Based off of Rupert’s guidance, it’s become more and more apparent that if the listener doesn’t feel anything at the end of the song, or feel different than they did at the beginning of the song, then it’s all for not, you know? If you can make somebody feel something in three, four, or five minutes, that’s different than the way they felt in the beginning; mission accomplished.

Jameson: The goal is to make someone feel something. Not finish the song as soon as possible.

Carson: And if they feel something within three minutes, then that’s great. Some songs are perfect for three minutes.

Some people like melodies, but lyrics aren’t that important to them. Are you as obsessed with the message of the lyrics as the emotive music you’re producing?

Carson: I think I can speak for everybody when I say, we’re not obsessed. I don’t think we’re obsessed with anything as far as that goes. I don’t think it’s something we consciously think about, like, ‘We need to make sure that this song has a melody that’s a hook, and that the lyrics mean something to somebody on this planet (at least 4 million), and that they wanna sing this song over and ov…’ No it’s not about that. I don’t ever consider what I’m singing about. I think because of what the lyrics are based upon, my own personal experiences or the way I feel, it’s obvious that I’m going to relate, because I’m not that different from you. So I could sing a song, and if you’ve had an experience similar to mine, then it’s like, ‘yeah, I totally relate.’ There’s never a situation where it’s like, ‘I need to relate to somebody today.’ It’s not about that.

Jameson: The best and the worst part about Steve as a lead singer, his best message or lyrics come out when he’s not thinking about it, and just singing with the band. As far as Steve sitting down and thinking about what the message is or should be, I don’t think that exists.

Yolken: We’ll play a song live for a few months before the lyrics are locked down. And the first time we play a song live, we typically have everything else close. Sometimes it comes quick, sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s always meaningful, it’s just never calculated.

And some bands like to have it completely calculated, but do you think that takes away from the feeling of the song? Like trying to push it into a little box?

Carson: I don’t think so. Everybody is different, and I think there are plenty of artists or bands that can sit and write, and then they can take those words and they can find their melody and their own way, and it’s all the same. The amazing thing about live performance is that there’s really no specific way it’s done. Everybody does it different. And the reality is that, we could do something different tomorrow. We don’t have a formula.

Introduction to Songwriters Collection

What does it take to write a song? Why do some people string together chord progressions so effortlessly, while others slave over every piece? Is it important to tell a story, or does the inclusion of lyrics occur only so a melody to hum with exists? Do the technical musicians quell the simpler songwriters, or can a simple three-chord change inspire more overall emotion from the listener? And in the end, is it the audience member that gives the song life?

For some, songwriting is an organic process that grows in the seeds of personal practice, while others find their stride within the jam circle. Records are made in so many ways these days, whether it involves capturing rough cuts on tape recorders, tunes made in warehouses and garages on personal digital devices, or albums produced by a professional studio that house ProTools, plenty of equipment, high-powered computers, and the finest acoustics. As I carefully studied each perspective, I began to realize there was no cut and dry manner of making a song. Most musicians that spoke of his or her inspirations, stuck to specific songwriting practices of their own. Others revealed that they enjoyed reinventing themselves by morphing in phases with the style of their music, just as an individual morphs during his or her lifetime.

In the end, the hunt for the key to songwriting became clear: it is about self-expression, and discovering a Harmonia with yourself and your bandmates. To be culturally aware is to be an artist, and the truly great songwriters speak and play from their heart in reference to the world around them. They create with the intention of portraying the emotions felt by humanity, but that most individuals are unable to express because they are not practiced in the process of artistic interpretation. That being the case, it is never too late to start thinking about the music we choose to listen to, and why it is relevant in our day-to-day life. Then, as an audience member and fan, it is always possible to be part of the journey of songwriting.

Keep and eye out for interviews from:

The Growlers

Billy Kernkamp

Stanley Lucas Revolution

Honeypie

Echo Echo

Tyler Ellis

Omaha

Railroad to Alaska

Snakebit Drifters

Drums and Color

A Week at Detroit

Every night there is something to do at Detroit Bar, the music venue hiding in the corner of the Vista Center located in Eastside Costa Mesa. Drive on 19th street past Placentia Ave., past the old eVocal, past Avalon, turn left at the brightly lit marquee, and in towards the corner of the parking lot. There, you will find one of the most vital contributing venues in the underground Orange County music and art scene.

Throughout the venue, the reoccurring theme is an aged, yet chic style of Mod. Knitted pieces of tangerine-colored pillow art litter the walls of the dance floor, bar area, and pool hall; buffering the music that spews from speakers. Every piece of interior has rounded corners, whether it is the stools, tables, or booths. The establishment is split into three tiers; the first being the open concert hall, the second the bar, booths, and DJ arena, and the last being the pool room that possesses a digital jukebox, a classic joystick Pacman arcade game, and more lounge seating.

For nine years, the stage has featured thousands of bands; some good, some great, and some to forget. But each performance always shines in it’s own distinct way. From a wooden beam above and away from the stage hangs the modest light system and fog machine. To the right and left, suspended with a tilt towards the audience, are two substantial house speakers. Monitors litter the extension of the platform that was built into the existing frame of the stage just a few weeks ago, providing a little extra space for the performers. Surrounding the musicians are three walls of orange-painted concrete hidden behind a perimeter of deep red curtains. In the back, centered in the drapery, is an oversized smooth metal replica of the Detroit Bar logo, always beaming in the glow of shifting red, blue, green, and yellow beams of stage light. For those who see the merit in discovering new and upcoming musical acts to add to their life playlist, it is the perfect place to reside every night of the week.

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Today the week starts with Resident Live Music Monday, and for the first evening of the Billy Kernkamp Mysteresidency, the sounds of The Relative Strangers are booming out of the doorway of Detroit. “The feeear of taking you for graaanted, the feeear of letting yooou go,” has wandered into my head a lot over the last month. This Thursday will be their first appearance at the House of Blues in Anaheim.

Pleasant surprise is the second mystery band, Wake Up Lucid, hailing from Los Angeles. This three-piece played a healthy set of psychedelic Southern rock to impress the crowd. Tonight, the three-band-lineup is letting each group take advantage of extended time on stage. Wake Up Lucid took advantage, showing a great extension of their musical range, including an impressive drum solo transitioned seamlessly into an intense song finale. Definitely downloading their new EP as soon as possible.

Gossip of the night is all about unveiling the Ruffian music blogger, whether or not he was there, and who it may be. It is still unclear if they are male or female, one person or many, and what crowd they seem to run with. But the consensus seems to be that, whoever it may be, he or she is probably not much of a musician.

Billy Kernkamp, accompanied by Justin Deckert, Brendan Murphy, Teddy Duran, Justin Morales, minus organist Dallas Kruse, takes center-stage. In the spotlight after a few weeks of hiding out, Kernkamp graces his many fans, singing their favorite songs with deep passion and romantic fervor. A month-long residency is good practice for the group, as they will be entering the Red Bull recording studio in a few weeks to claim their OC Music Awards prize. Nearby, Trisha Smith and Ryan Radcliff of Honeypie enjoy the music. They will be playing next Thursday at Detroit with Melanoid, Preacher’s Sons, and May McDonough.

At the end of the night, it is necessary to swoop out undetected, otherwise goodbyes would last on through the night. Always a good time seeing friends at Billy’s shows. Looking forward to the rest of July Mysteresidency.

For local artists, the Monday night residency spot is coveted, and reserved for the most legit Orange County musicians. Over the last year, bands like The New Limb, Railroad to Alaska, and Blok have chosen their favorite openers to join them in filling up the Detroit dance floor for four weeks in row. Not only is this Residency one of the best ways for a band to gain exposure, but it is also a challenge that truly shows a group’s stature and following in the Orange County music scene.

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Started off this Tuesday night Everyday Noise event by walking into Detroit to the words, “People get goofy to this song.” The Tail, a group of four, sounded reminiscent of a modern-day Beach Boys or Dr. Dog, but with more quirky and intellectual lyrics.

Near the DJ booth, Everyday Noise founder, Ash Eliot, works away on her laptop, while her partner, Albert Ching, runs to and from the stage area to observe the show. This duo is running the Local Indie Night every first Tuesday of every month at Detroit.

Next up is another four-piece hailing as the California Condors. Each member, with their own personal microphone, stood up to sing his own song, with only a few truly being memorable for the night. This is an Indie band with excellent musicians and democratic songwriting style.

A faux-redheaded female takes the stage with her psychedelic rock band. Spirit Vine had made the rounds through Los Angeles and now enters Orange County, with the possibility of a memorable show tonight. With red lights turned low, a few riffs from the lead guitarist, and the occasional harmonies hit just right, Spiritvine was unforgettable.

Peyote Players closed out the night as the population dwindled to the final few. This funky, hip-hop, soul, psychedelic rock trio, featuring lead bass, is the most entertaining of the evening; enough to earn fog and a technical light show from the house. A mellow evening at Detroit with a full range of Indie bands.

While the local musicians usually host Tuesday evenings, the final one of the month is reserved for Dubtroit, a night filled with the heavy basslines of dubstep music. The crowd has been anticipating this Tuesday all month, checking in with friends days in advance to make sure they are attending. Every time Dubtroit rolls around, the bouncer knows it is time to prepare for that long line that always builds in front of his station. One by one, he checks ID’s, always attempting to tame the orgasmic electricity shifting though the crowd, and the smell of hydroponics in the air on the patio.

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Dolphin City is glowing in raw projector light, laced with flecks of digital color. Dressed in all white, perfectly puzzled together on stage like opaque tetris blocks. The stellar musical experimentations radiate over the snug audience that consumes the concrete dance floor. And the standard is set high for the musical acts of the night.

For The New Limb, tonight is the ultimate homecoming after a two-week tour up the veins of the West Coast. A new maturity, wisdom, and confidence pulses in musical succession from the five members. Time apart results in a sense of nostalgia, and a new excitement for the group that I’ve seen so many times now. Welcome home.

Young the Giant, previously known as The Jakes, sets up and briefly checks their levels. “It’s time to start a fight,” flows from the romantic vocals of the lead. These young men, previously known as The Jakes, exemplify the Indie scene perfectly in Orange County, with charismatic tunes bouncing throughout the establishment. The promoters have changed up the schedule for the month of August, with Young the Giant taking a slot as Resident band. Any other Wednesday night would consist of a DJ set, and completely different kind of crowd than musical hipsters. Go through the door of Detroit on hump day, and be greeted by a dance floor that hosts twirling bits of colored lights moving to the beat of the pop, ‘80s, house, and techno beats that inspire the crowd to drink, pick up on each other, and dance all night long. Refreshing to have a Costa Mesa venue with bands on a Wednesday for a change.

When Detroit was first introduced to the public after purchasing the punk venue, Club Mesa, in 2001, the entry line on a Wednesday evening shoot down the sidewalk, stretching past the neighboring businesses, all the way to the parking lot entrance near Alejandro’s Mexican food. Although the initial charm has worn off a bit, Detroit still boasts lines like this for Tuesday night Dubtroit, and national headliners like Cold War Kids, Crystal Castles, and Autolux.

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Thursday night; semi-official start to the weekend. That means there is probably a cover, with a touring band or special-event taking place. On this specific evening, it is Chainsaw’s Birthday Massacre featuring Railroad to Alaska, The Vespertines, Strange Birds, and Names In Vain.

Names In Vain are setting up, lights turned low and a thin starting crowd. Railroad members are split between the front door patio and the concert hall. Members of Strange Birds line the bar, with an occasional glance at one of the three televisions that float in orange encasings over the back bar. Each screen usually displays cult classics, eclectic music videos, or an occasional sports game. As the night wears on, The Vespertines enter the scene, with local musicians, scenesters, and surfers following. And the smoking patio fills.

By the end of the evening, the crowd is stretched full with booze, and an itching desire to get rowdy. Perhaps it was the booming voice of Vespertine’s lead female vocalist, crying low tones of Change, with a solid band of brothers behind her, matching her intensity in great harmony. Perhaps it was a particular crowd of fans, including birthday girl, Vanessa Barnes, that shot the rest of the audience up with adrenaline with their violent dancing, pushing, and rhythmic screaming.

As the people begin to exit the venue, friends and acquaintances continue to linger out front. But a few super drunk buddies, led by the-most-plastered-king-of-the-night, begins looking for some trouble. A fight quickly flames and fizzles, but a row of Detroit regulars, Railroad guys, and bouncers now line the patio, guarding the entrance to the establishment, making sure there’s no more trouble for the night.

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On Friday evening, everything changes. The crowd, the music, the mentality. A full set of DJ’s take over the venue, transforming it into a club with men and women on the prowl. Pay five bucks at the door, and enter into a world of lights, lazers, and the sound of MSTRKRFT, Justice, and Daft Punk remixes. Club attire is more prolific tonight, with the men in button-ups, and the female’s skirts being tighter and shorter than any other night of the week. All three tiers of Detroit are bustling with young adults looking to throw a few drinks back and officially welcome the weekend.

Around the establishment, a cocktail waitress dressed in a black ruffled skirt and tank hustles from room to room, checking constantly for drink orders. At the bar, tequila shots are being shared. On the dancefloor, club-goers assimilate in drunken dance movements, while local photographers shoot from all angles, bending the perspective and light in every which way. Friday’s are reserved for the crowd that wants to absorb entertainment and alcohol from all sides.

However, any weekend the schedule may change, depending if a band like The Growlers, the GZA, Matt Costa, or Valient Thorr is coming through town. But no matter the night, Detroit supplies a hub for local music, socializing, and an escape from the work-week.

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It’s Saturday and the crowd consistently wanders in for the Echo Echo CD Release (with vinyl!). Tonight, the group shares their new album,Fall Like You're Flying. Through the main entrance, and towards the merch booth to find sprigs of delicate faux cherry blossom branches twinkling, each laced with tiny bulbs of light inside rice paper flowers. A few line the stage, with the rest set around the brown suitcase at the table. Inside the gaping mouth of the case, copies of the album are joined by digital download cards.

National act, Film School, under code name Fission, takes stage at 9:15pm sharp, making it an early start to the night for the venue. It has been two years since the foursome have played on stage together, and the Detroit stage is the first of many on their Fall tour schedule. The electro-indie band, with wedding rings and a hint of maturity on their faces, run their set and check the response of the crowd every song or two. Nervous to reply, the crowd keeps a distance, but continues listening closely.

To follow is Semi Sweet, a local bitch pop group, boasting the ratio of three females on vocals, keys, and drums, to the two men playing bass and guitar. A crowd gathers to the breathy croons of the lead vocalist; a seductive female with Fender in hand, sharing dramatic lyrics with the band’s followers. A fan posted up front grabs a prop bubble machine that had been implanted at the foot of the stage. He points and shoots, scattering a rain of gleaming orbs amidst the melodies of songs titled “Sleazy” and “Sugar Free.”

Third for the night is The Relative Strangers. As they play, more people wander into the establishment, proving the band is the perfect buffer for the headliner of the night. The two pairs of actual relatives finish up, allowing plenty of time for Echo Echo to share a full set of their new record before last call. As the band begins, a darker and more emotionally rattling mood begins to linger in the air. The four members, comprised of music locals, Steve Carson, Jameson, Darren Carr, and Bruce Yoken, escape to a place of broken romances. Carson, with his sorrowful voice resonating strong, leads the group in an epic set that extends into the wee hours of the morning.

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Last chance to enjoy the weekend, and this specific Sunday, the crowd stumbles through the door, drunk from the events of Labor Day, ready for some top-notch karaoke. First stop: the bar. Second stop: the Book. Within the plastic covers of the karaoke binders is a thick selection of the classics, the current, and everything else in between. On stage, Lester Trombone, the host of the affair, is dressed in black and red pin-stripe pants, slicked back hair, and one of his t-shirts that simply states, “Organic Robot,” “Love Songs for Everyone,” or “ I Like Stuff.” He hunches over his karaoke stand, tucked away in the corner, his table littered with white strips of music selections. Scrolling through thousands of songs in his database, Lester hollers song titles from the likes of Danzig, Nirvana, Fiona Apple, and Weezer.

A swarming crowd ripe with booze serenades loudly along with a hip young man basking in the fog and lights of the red-carpeted stage. Tonight, owning the platform for a few minutes is difficult, with a growing crowd steadily throwing their favorite tunes towards the host. In the back corner of the dance floor, the sound technician adjusts vocal levels and lights, with fog and green beams of lazer reserved for only the finest acts of the evening. With a tempo change in lights and a puff of swirling smoke, this young man has achieved his acceptance from the establishment, and the crowd roars on.

Tomorrow each individual may regret the song selection they made, the amount of alcohol they consumed, or the decision to hit on that plastered guy or girl at the bar. But no matter what experiences were had, karaoke is the best way to close out the week at Detroit.

http://detroitbar.com/