When Seattlest first got word that we could interview Jesse Sykes we got really excited. Then we got nervous. You see, she kind of intimidates us. She's deep. She's beautiful. And that voice. Oh, that voice. But you know what? We really had nothing to worry about. What began as an interview became more of a conversation. One of the best conversations about music we've had in awhile. This is about half of that conversation.
The new album (Like, Love, Lust and the Open Halls of the Soul) definitely has a more expansive, adventurous sound than Oh My Girl – especially songs like You Might Walk Away, with its up-tempo rhythms and bits of, dare we say, hand clapping. Was there a conscious effort to be more experimental this time around or did the music just naturally fall into place?
You know, I’ve talked about this and thought about it enough that I can truly say that it’s something that happens organically and you know, whatever medium you’re working in, if you’re committed to being a creative person and trying to make that your life, then inevitably you’re going to grow. The ones who don’t, I hate to say it, are the ones who can’t last. That’s all you really have as an artist, is the hope that you’ll constantly be outside your comfort zone.
Between the gorgeous instrumentation and your own distinctive voice, Jesse Sykes and The Sweet Hereafter has always been something of a dual showcase. Has there ever been any conflict in reconciling the two during the songwriting or studio process?
Phil [Wandscher], the guitarist, and I have been together for nine years and I think we’re twins on some weird interior level. I mean, pretty intense people and just, so similar. Sometimes it’s like the vocals and the guitar are these two life forces co-mingling together. On the front end it’s what made me go wow, there’s something really cool about our energy together, and now it’s something I fully accept. Now, when I show him a song, he just instinctually knows where to take it. No dialog – it just kind of happens.
You’ve been touring the US constantly since the new album’s release in early February. And after this month you’re off to Europe for another month and a half before returning for the Sasquatch Festival. How has the tour been so far?
It’s amazing. I mean, we’ve had some mishaps. Two transmissions went out, then there’s the accident – some idiot hit us in a parking lot and just today we found out that he gave us all fake information so we’re still in shock from all that [heavy sigh]. It would take hours to get into the drama around that event. So we had a lot of mishaps, but the shows have been amazing. I don’t know, I just feel really positive about it, which is good you know, because, even our booking agent always jokes, ‘eight weeks til we break the band up,’ – because, it’s a long time to be out there in the same setting. You know, it can be intense. It changes you. You find things out about yourself you didn’t know.
After the jump, Jesse explains the sour taste of SXSW and why Pitchfork are fucking assholes. Seattlest sits back and just listens.
Was this your first year doing SXSW?
No, no, I think this was our third. We didn’t do it last year because we didn’t have a new record out, but it’s probably going to be our last, to be honest, because I’m just not a big fan of it anymore. It’s really cool, you know, when you’re young and delusional but it’s lost its charm. I think it was very beneficial for us this year and I’m glad we did it, but other than enjoying meeting certain people and doing our shows – I don’t know, the whole thing just left a weird taste in my mouth.
When doing festival shows like SXSW and Sasquatch, you’re often exposing yourself and your music to a broader audience, many of whom may not have heard you before. Does this alter the dynamic of a performance at all, compared to shows at smaller venues, where the people are generally fans?
Well, when we went out on this tour, we were often opening for bigger bands, so really during the whole tour we were exposed to people who didn’t necessarily all know who we were, and they were big venues – I mean the Filmore, big places. So I got used to the idea of a new crowd all the time which is always really exciting because it’s your chance to, you know, try to win some people over, get some new fans. But SXSW is not – I mean, so many people you’re playing for are in the business and it’s not a normal music festival like Sasquatch or Bonnaroo where it’s all fans going to see bands. It’s kind of a weird thing. I mean you’re playing mainly for journalists and radio people. So there’s this whole different dynamic. So I try really hard to shut it off and not think, ‘Oh we’re playing a showcase.’ I try to just play it like a regular show. But playing at something like Sasquatch – it’s a real festival and it’s exciting.
Considering that your music feels very intimate and reflective do you prefer smaller venues like the Tractor?
Yeah, that’s why we’re playing two nights at the Tractor this weekend. You know, we’d really rather do two nights at a smaller venue than one night at a bigger one. And yeah, I do agree, in smaller venues there’s more of an energy and you can really connect with an audience – as opposed to theater shows, like when we were opening for Bright Eyes – I felt a strange separation from the audience which I didn’t enjoy at all.
Back in September ‘06, Wired Magazine did a story called “The Pitchfork Effect” – focusing initially on the blooming success of Broken Social Scene once Pitchfork gave them a glowing review. Since the release of Oh My Girl, they’ve also given you guys some positive reviews –
Yeah but they evidently just reviewed this record and gave it a shitty score.
Yeah, but the review –
I didn’t look at it and I’m not going to [laughs]. I mean it’s so weird because they’ve been so behind us – I mean every week we’ve been on this tour they’ve been writing about us and I feel like, just leave us alone then because I’d rather you just ignore us than tell me I made a mediocre record. I’m actually very confused by it. But you know, Phil actually said it best – I’m not convinced they’re not the enemy. Ultimately, it doesn’t fucking matter, but it did kind of bum me out to come home and hear that, but you know, what is it? It’s one nerdy guy’s opinion. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I don’t read my own reviews because the good ones can be as disappointing as the bad ones, because they don’t really tell you anything, not as an artist, but as the reader. I think the criticism is not very challenging these days and I find myself as the reader very unfulfilled with today’s writing on music and bands.
With us, evidently it was a good review, but the score was low, and I know what these fucking assholes do. A lot of writers will give it a high mark and then the editors will bump it down. I don’t ever want to be put in a position where I have to defend what I do, but I think Pitchfork is overrated and in probably a few years, they won’t have the clout they have now. And you know what? People who go and buy albums based on a review are idiots too. Because at some point you’ve got to make something your own. But all artists are kind of screwed nowadays because there’re just too many bands out there – there’s something weird happening. I don’t know why there are so many bands and then so many people now fancy themselves as critics – it’s just gotten to be ridiculous. It’ll be interesting, actually, to see in five years who survives.
Anyway, as for our record, it's not one that you're just going to throw on and get right away. There's a perpetual unveiling that occurs when you actually take the time and actually listen. I mean it's the way I'm emotionally made up and I sort of take it as a compliment that some idiot at Pitchfork does not understand that. In the great realm of things, I guarantee whoever gave that [Pitchfork] score has a completely different taste in music, different aesthetic visually, probably decorates their apartment with Ikea furniture and just wouldn't get me as a person, so why would they understand my record? And that's okay. But what pisses me off is that eighty-fucking-thousand people are going to see it and they're going to buy into what one little jackass has to say without taking the time to fucking see for themselves. But you know, we don't live in that world anymore.
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter play this Saturday and Sunday at the Tractor. We'll be there. We'll be listening.



wow, pinging between defensive and dismissive, it ends with one of the more egotistical rants i've seen from a musician in quite awhile. pitchfork definitely deserves criticism, but this is hilarious.
you people who buy generic furniture can never hope to grasp the brilliance that is jesse sykes. screw the internet! you don't need to know what other people think. yep, far better to take the chance to pay your money & be bored to sleep by ms. sykes in person.
ew, think about taking a shower after her, and all her hair in the drain and on the walls. NAS-TAY!