To Wild Frontiers
Wooden Shjips Ride the Open Road
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“Are there any record stores in the area?” asks Dusty Jermier, bassist of San Francisco outfit Wooden Shjips. The man wants to make the best of what little free time he has before the show. He also wants to know if there is any truth to all the Montreal bagel hype.
I tell him that, yes, the bagels are very good and that there is a great record store just a few blocks away on Mont-Royal Ave. E., but that I can’t think of the name. And then we talk about music some more.
Wooden Shjips are what most folks would probably call psychedelic, but that umbrella tag should be discarded immediately. Their music exceeds your classic stoner rock; this stuff is unembellished exploration.
It’s simple drumbeats, minimalist bass lines, a droning organ, haunting vocal, bareness of the west in waves of spacey low-fi guitar, though Jermier prefers mid-fi.
Listening to Ripley Johnson wail lyrics that explore sex, death and violence, one can’t help but eventually think of Jim Morrison, and yet again let the doors of perception open.
“Keeping it simple has always been the foundation of the band,” Jermier says, calling the music primitive and admitting that he often plays very few different notes.
West is Wooden Shjips’ first studio record, having produced all their previous work out of their practice space. It is also their first collaboration with an engineer, allowing the band to focus on their playing.
Staying true to the band’s founding principles, West was recorded in an all-analog studio, expanding to eight-track recording instead of the three they were used to.
Though Jermier is careful to avoid calling it a concept album, he admits that halfway through the writing process, the band recognized a recurring theme of the open west.
They found themselves contemplating the sweep of the desert, exploring the concept of the frontier as an area that functions outside of the law and the restraints imposed on societies. At the core of the album, the band seeks to redefine manifest destiny as an expansion of the mind.
“It’s been a good time,” Jermier answers when I ask how the live shows have been going. He tells me about a San Diego gig where he watched groups of concertgoers dressed in extravagant costumes ride away into the night on their bicycles after the show. He talks about staying in a nunnery while touring in Berlin with nuns who spoke no English at all.
The band has seen venues of all sizes, and Jermier tells me he’s excited to see Sala Rossa. Their upcoming shows will feature the video projections of Sanae Yamada, which Jermier describes as geometric to the music and an integral part of the performance. He also assures me that if the venue has a disco ball, they are likely to make use of it.
“So I can definitely walk to the bagel place from the venue?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, and I apologize for forgetting the name of the record shop. He tells me to watch the 1973 Clint Eastwood Western High Planes Drifter and to make sure to say hello after the show. And we hang up.
Dang, I think. It was Paul’s Boutique.
Wooden Shjips / Nov. 8 / La Sala Rossa (4848 St. Laurent Blvd.) more info
