Source: Express Night Out
WHEN PUBLIC RECORD’S Gareth Duffield and Brent Bohan talk about music, they’re all over the map. The two toss around artist names from Nigerian highlife, Jamaican reggae, Motown soul, Australian indie rock and British post-punk like they’re as common as The Beatles or Johnny Cash.
After nearly seven years together, Public Record has finally released its first CD, bringing Duffield and Bohan’s crazed genre-quotation game into fruition as a solid and cohesive album.
“It’s monumental,” Duffield said with a laugh.
The band’s self-titled, all-instrumental debut, released earlier this month on hometown Philadelphia label High Two, is a different beast than the music Duffield and Bohan created when they started the band in 2001. After taking a couple years off and reuniting in 2005, the two have added five members to the group and created an identity for Public Record that transcends easy genre-tagging.
“The Public Record sound is really hard for us to pinpoint — it’s just tendencies,” Duffield said. “Not too many people are talking about doing a Bohannon beat or incorporating Jamaican rhythms with something My Bloody Valentine-esque, and I think that helps us.”
The band’s debut exemplifies Duffield and Bohan’s belief in both moderation and experimentation.
While the sound of an alto sax carrying the melody might call to mind painful memories of smooth jazz, saxophonist Hilary Baker assuages that notion with an edgier sound — and she’s like free jazzman Peter Brotzmann on the blaring “Ca Purange.” There are also two drummers (three when performing live), a pair of guitarists and a bass player who do their part to weave the group’s disparate influences into a 45-minute album. The CD seamlessly incorporates the reggae-influenced “Fake Rain” (which calls to mind The Clash‘s “Guns of Brixton”) with the cool funk of “Mermaid’s Purse” and Tortoise-like avant-garde jazz in “Heavy Ornament.”
Though Public Record may be an instrumental group primarily — they’ve started including a few vocals in newer songs — don’t go thinking it’s a jam band, or even a jazz group. Duffield and Bohan know better than to let their musical imaginations run away from them.
“That’s a bad word for us — jam band,” Bohan said with a laugh. “We’re not really learned musicians or anything like that. We do have to painstakingly consider what we’re doing and how one thing will react to the other. In that sense, we’re not really good enough to be a jam band, or a jazz band.”
Public Record’s “free” approach is more sleight of hand.
“One nice thing about what we do is it often allows people to think that what they’re hearing is a lot freer than what it is. The truth is that each song — I’m not saying that it’s uncomfortable, but it is a bit of a painstaking process and a lot of consideration into each part and change,” said Duffield.
“An incredible discourse takes place at practice,” Bohan said. “That’s probably our favorite time — putting together these ideas and those sounds just trying to make it out our own.”
“A lot of name-dropping goes on,” Duffield said about the way Public Record’s musicians communicate its compositional ideas to one another — and to inquiring journalists. The Bohannon beat — a 1970s disco groove made famous by its eponymous percussionist creator — for example, is a recurring theme in the interview, and Duffield and Bohan later wax poetic on the influence of Jamaican rocksteady godfather Alton Ellis.
But even the biggest music nerd might be thrown for a loop with some of Duffield and Bohan’s references, but the name-dropping that goes on at band practice can sometimes create unexpected results.
“Sometimes it’s not so important that [bandmates] have the same exposure,” Duffield said. “I think what gives it a distinct creative feel is maybe somebody might not be familiar with the same idea you have, but then they bring something else to the table that kind of turns it on its side and makes it into its own thing.”