AC: I'm always interested in local music / creative scenes. Was there a scene in the different places you lived? What was it like?
K: I started playing some shows and busking in a folk-punk band in Phoenix when I was 19, then moved to Omaha for about a year. When I returned, the music scene in Phoenix felt electrified. I was living in Tempe going to college at the time, and there were house shows abound and dance parties in backyards. Unfortunately, there weren't many medium-sized venues to play, so most things centred around DIY spaces downtown, makeshift house venues or strange bars throughout the metropolitan area.
We would spend every weekend at Long Wong's in Tempe for whatever friend had a monthly residency. The Trunk Space was the apex of the arts community in Phoenix, a haven for all. For the most part, I felt the scene was supportive, not very competitive throughout the years. It was rare to me that you'd see a band trying to "be" anything. A lot of folks just came as they were, and in my opinion, some of the best bands I've ever seen were Phoenix bands. Being surrounded by the desolation of heat, endless space, and depressing track home developments only encourages a thriving community of wonderfully weird and innovative makers. They are all trying to reinvent their space out of necessity and find safety in their expression.
AC: I love how you describe your memories. I really relate to having an in-between existence, and I also hold on to vivid memories after struggling with PTSD-related disassociation. One of my favourite things is to think of special moments, similar to how you described 7th ave, Darlings and Barton Springs. Can you tell us a bit more about each one of those memories and why you chose to focus on those moments in particular?
K: Thank you for sharing! I think it's so important to develop those tools for grounding.
I wrote the lyrics while back in Phoenix the last Christmas before the pandemic hit. I was walking from 7th st to 7th ave on Roosevelt, home to an essential and transformative Phoenix arts community that has slowly been displaced to foreign-invested luxury development. I was walking and thinking about all the times I had walked or driven through there for the past fifteen years. It felt familiar even though so much had changed. I started thinking about "place" and "home," and the other two memories mentioned felt most determining in parcelling out definitions.
I have a memory of going to Darlings after getting off work serving in Tribeca. I had just settled into the first few months of really living in NYC without touring and visiting Phoenix and found myself overwhelmed by the brevity of time and all the places I had been that past year. Without even thinking, I found myself fully sprinting home, this new home, like it was the only way to expel that energy.
The other memory of Barton Springs was this beautiful day on tour, serendipitously running into another band we had previously toured with and going down to the water together. A rope was tied to the top of a tree, and people were trying to see how high they could climb before swinging back into the water. I have gone to the springs almost every time I am in Austin on tour, and therefore it feels constant to me during those periods of constantly moving.