Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos, self-releases, and output from small or overlooked communities. Today, Jenn Pelly speaks with shadowy dream pop band Siamese Twins about their new video and debut record.
Siamese Twins is one-part twee and two-parts goth—the former by way of singer/guitarist Liz Panella, the latter from singer/keyboardist Meghan Minior and bassist/visual artist Jamie Jones. The darkly-shaded dream pop trio came on my radar around the release of their 2011 demo tape. It was a familiar sound—the dim guitar-crunch of Black Tambourine, Elizabeth Fraser's cool, textured vocals—but I couldn't stop playing it. Especially on "Don't Forgive Lightly" and "We Fall Apart", Siamese Twins had an immediacy that seemed to cater straight to my interests. (And perhaps that directness comes from recent backgrounds in punk/hardcore bands like Ampere, Libyans, and Confines, among others.)
I've gone back to that cassette a lot over the past three years, and saw them once in Brooklyn with Merchandise; they've only played four shows ever, all accompanied by Limp Wrist drummer Paul Henry. But I never really learned anything about Siamese Twins. That was maybe part of the appeal. It felt appropriate for music that sounds like a hushed secret.
Their debut album, Still Corner, is a welcome surprise, out July 1 on their own Eunuch Records—hear the opening track "Wide Eyed" above. The writing for the LP was less collaborative than the demo, due to geography. Meghan and Jamie are in Massachusetts while Liz lives in Chicago, where she is on the board for in-process all-ages venue Pure Joy and playing in Earth Girls. (Their new single "Wrong Side of History" is also streaming below and recommended for fans of kinetic tightly-wound garage pop.) Today Siamese Twins share a video for the new song "Submission", directed by Hannah Abelow—a clip of peculiar grace, featuring many heart-shaped cakes smashed to pieces and some indoor-umbrella-opening for good measure. Liz also spoke with me about the new album and genesis of Siamese Twins.
Pitchfork: What did you have in mind when you wrote the first Siamese Twins song?
Liz Panella: We wrote our first song in the fall of 2010. It was one of those bands that you start thinking, "This will be a fun project, an excuse to hang with friends." We had no idea that people would ever hear the music, let alone like it as much as they seem to. Musically, we had one thing in mind: goth. The final product was a lot different than we intended—much poppier. I think that's my fault, haha!
Pitchfork: You all live in different cities now—when did you record the album?
LP: We got together last November to record. We had three days to write and arrange the songs, and three days to record. None of us had heard anything that the other two had written before we arrived in the studio. I honestly am a little shocked that we pulled it off given the limited time we had. It was one of the best weeks of my life.
Pitchfork: The band is (fittingly) named after a song by the Cure, and there are definitely other 80s reference points in your sound. Do you think originality is important? What do you value most in new music?
LP: It's funny—in the silly Smiths vs. Cure rivalry that some fans adhere to, as an angsty 14-year-old, I chose the Smiths. I do really like the Cure, but their sound hasn't had much direct influence on the music I create. I think Jamie and Meghan are much more influenced by the Cure than I am. It is true that the band name came from the Cure song, but I couldn't even tell you how that song goes. My main point of reference for 80s music is the Flying Nun scene from New Zealand, bands like the Bats and the Verlaines.
Originality is obviously important, but not when it's for its own sake. I'd much rather listen to a band that is playing an established style, but doing it really well and crafting memorable songs, than a band that is doing something new and potentially interesting at the expense of good songwriting. What I most value in new music is the ability of a band to pay homage to and draw from their favorite artists, but without becoming a carbon copy. My favorite band of recent years, Marked Men, totally nails that approach, in my opinion.
To a certain extent, I think the progression of a musical style should happen incrementally, save for the groundbreaking genius bands or artists that appear only a few times in a generation. Otherwise you end up with "genre salad," where elements of music are combined in new ways that will sound incredibly stale in two years.
Pitchfork: "Don't Forgive Lightly", from your demo, is probably my most-played Siamese Twins track. What inspired that song?
LP: That was one of the early songs, where we wrote more collaboratively. Jamie came in with the bassline and we finished it together. I added the vocals. It's often hard for me to say exactly what my songs are about, because I tend to write lyrics somewhat phonetically to match the mood of the instruments. That song was written during my last year living in Boston, which was a transitional time in my life. I was constantly over-analyzing my situation and trying to figure out what was important. So those lyrics are a reflection of a somewhat subconscious existential crisis, haha. Going back to the Flying Nun influence, I think the song title was accidentally inspired by Chris Knox's song "Not Given Lightly".
Pitchfork: What does the title Still Corner mean to you?
LP: We record at Meghan's house. Her partner Will Killingsworth runs a recording studio, Dead Air, in their basement. They live in a huge house in the woods, and I think recording in that setting really influences how the songs turn out. Still Corner is the name of their street.
Pitchfork: You're also in a hardcore band called Libyans. Does that inform the way you write pop songs at all?
LP: I've been writing pop songs since I was four years old—musically, it's the only thing I know how to do. I don't think that playing hardcore has really affected the way I write. I've never been very good at writing hardcore songs, because they always end up sounding like pop-punk. In Libyans, the rest of the band would write the parts, and I'd help arrange them and add vocals. The one exception would be Eunuch, an all female power-violence band I was in in Boston. For some reason, those songs came pretty naturally.
Pitchfork: What inspired the video you're sharing today for "Submission"?
LP: The video was the brainchild of our good friend Hannah Abelow. I think she was trying to evoke the aesthetic of our record art, which is created by Jamie with a little help from Meghan. She planned the whole thing down to every minute detail, and built the sets in her studio in Providence, R.I. with the help of her friend Rachel. She also brought a huge wardrobe of 80s prom dresses and other clothing for us to choose from, which was very fun. I felt like a little girl playing dress up. I also put on lipstick and eye shadow for maybe the fourth time in my life.
