By The Numbers ...
Eric Shapiro - NY Press - 8/25/2010
Pondering fame—and not being a dick—with the guys of New Numbers
New Numbers is the kind of band that rewards repeated listening. Synthesizers and guitars mix to create rich, moody soundscapes that, along with disconnected, stream-of-consciousness lyrics, lend the music an abstract, impressionist quality.
“I start out with an aesthetic idea rather than a song idea. The chords and the words and all of it come second to some concepts that I have,” says songwriter and frontman Josh Abbott. Strip away the experimental elements of New Numbers’ sound however, and you are still left with catchy, slightly off kilter songs with melodies lifted from the vast lexicon of pop music. “As much as I’m into a lot of weird strange stuff, I feel like almost anyone can make a 13-minute abstract dirge that no one likes,” Abbott explains. New Numbers’ combination of experimentation and traditional song craft comes from Brian Eno-era David Bowie.
One would never guess that Bowie is Abbott’s main influence on a musical and personal level. He’s not as over-the-top eccentric; instead, he’s weird in a soft-spoken, low-key way. His wardrobe also isn’t quite as flashy; Abbott dresses in plaid and band T-shirts, fitting in well with the Brooklynites that surround us. We are at Variety, a charming coffee joint in Williamsburg with trendy music humming in the background.
I sip my usual black tea while Abbott nurses an Americano. He comes across as a sharp, witty, thoroughly genuine guy who takes issue with many of the indie culture’s pretentious aspects, particularly the self-conscious eccentricity that characterizes many musicians. “They want you to think they’re a mad genius but you overlook the fact that they’re really just a shallow dick weed,” he says.
Abbott is similarly dismissive of underground musicians who whine about achieving mainstream success against their will. “You can just say no. Everyone’s just embarrassed and trying to feign humility. So why are you being the most narcissistic, showy thing ever? It’s like leaving your diary out.”
Abbott is forthcoming about his own attitudes towards mainstream success. “I’d love it if I was on the biggest, most majory and uncool label ever with lots of funding to put on weird shows and albums,” he admits. Furthermore, being a performer, Abbott argues, is inherently egotistical. “You expect people to come stand in a room and watch you and then every time you do something, clap their hands for you like you’re five. I wish more people would admit that they appreciate the shallow side of art and music; that’s the part that gets you hooked.”
Abbott and I were so busy commiserating about the pretensions of the indie culture that it takes us a few moments to notice the arrival of drummer Mike Fadem. Abbott and Fadem have played music together since they met—at Oslo, in fact—in 2005. They were previously best known as members of the Jealous Girlfriends—the band that folk-rock singer extraordinaire Holly Miranda used to front. They are the only two official members of New Numbers, although they consider guitarist Jordan Melkin “almost a third member.”
In addition to drumming, Fadem plays the role of pseudo-manager. “I think if Mike wasn’t in the band, it would be me, in my basement, hanging out alone with a keyboard,” Abbott confesses. Not one to let his friend put himself down, Fadem adds: “I’m the brawn. I get the shit done, Josh is the genius behind it all.” It is clear that the bandmates share a deep mutual respect, as well as a tendency for reflexive self-deprecation.
Beyond compatible personalities and a passion for music, Abbott and Fadem have another key thing in common: Jewish mothers. Musicians often complain that their parents aren’t supportive of their career choice; Josh and Mike have the opposite problem. Like so many matriarchs of the tribe of Israel, Abbott and
Fadem's moms love to tell the world how special their kids are. “We’re like: shut up, we’re trying to be all cool and awesome and dark and our moms are going crazy tagging up Facebook and shit,” the former remarks jokingly.
Although Abbott welcomes input from his bandmates, New Numbers is not a democracy. He learned from his time in Jealous Girlfriends that giving everyone equal input is not necessarily a good thing. “I would have had to water down all my songs to nine little compromises on a records, just out of the fear of having my friends not think that I’m a jerk.”
As for future goals, New Numbers look forward to touring outside the U.S. “Once you see Lawrence, Kansas 12 times, you kind of want to start going on other tours in other places,” Abbott remarks. I jokingly ask them where finding more exotic groupies ranks in their list of motivations. Fadem laughs. “There are no groupies. We’re like, nerds. You have to hang out to find out if there are groupies. We don’t hang out. We play and then we’re out of there.”
Despite their openness to success, Abbott and Fadem are not going to chase it. Both know from past experience that doing so can destroy a band. “What we do is make music, so we just keep making it,” Abbot says.
>New Numbers
Aug. 28, The Rock Shop, 249 4th Ave. (at President St.), Brooklyn, 718-230-5740; 8, $10.
Pondering fame—and not being a dick—with the guys of New Numbers
New Numbers is the kind of band that rewards repeated listening. Synthesizers and guitars mix to create rich, moody soundscapes that, along with disconnected, stream-of-consciousness lyrics, lend the music an abstract, impressionist quality.
“I start out with an aesthetic idea rather than a song idea. The chords and the words and all of it come second to some concepts that I have,” says songwriter and frontman Josh Abbott. Strip away the experimental elements of New Numbers’ sound however, and you are still left with catchy, slightly off kilter songs with melodies lifted from the vast lexicon of pop music. “As much as I’m into a lot of weird strange stuff, I feel like almost anyone can make a 13-minute abstract dirge that no one likes,” Abbott explains. New Numbers’ combination of experimentation and traditional song craft comes from Brian Eno-era David Bowie.
One would never guess that Bowie is Abbott’s main influence on a musical and personal level. He’s not as over-the-top eccentric; instead, he’s weird in a soft-spoken, low-key way. His wardrobe also isn’t quite as flashy; Abbott dresses in plaid and band T-shirts, fitting in well with the Brooklynites that surround us. We are at Variety, a charming coffee joint in Williamsburg with trendy music humming in the background.
I sip my usual black tea while Abbott nurses an Americano. He comes across as a sharp, witty, thoroughly genuine guy who takes issue with many of the indie culture’s pretentious aspects, particularly the self-conscious eccentricity that characterizes many musicians. “They want you to think they’re a mad genius but you overlook the fact that they’re really just a shallow dick weed,” he says.
Abbott is similarly dismissive of underground musicians who whine about achieving mainstream success against their will. “You can just say no. Everyone’s just embarrassed and trying to feign humility. So why are you being the most narcissistic, showy thing ever? It’s like leaving your diary out.”
Abbott is forthcoming about his own attitudes towards mainstream success. “I’d love it if I was on the biggest, most majory and uncool label ever with lots of funding to put on weird shows and albums,” he admits. Furthermore, being a performer, Abbott argues, is inherently egotistical. “You expect people to come stand in a room and watch you and then every time you do something, clap their hands for you like you’re five. I wish more people would admit that they appreciate the shallow side of art and music; that’s the part that gets you hooked.”
Abbott and I were so busy commiserating about the pretensions of the indie culture that it takes us a few moments to notice the arrival of drummer Mike Fadem. Abbott and Fadem have played music together since they met—at Oslo, in fact—in 2005. They were previously best known as members of the Jealous Girlfriends—the band that folk-rock singer extraordinaire Holly Miranda used to front. They are the only two official members of New Numbers, although they consider guitarist Jordan Melkin “almost a third member.”
In addition to drumming, Fadem plays the role of pseudo-manager. “I think if Mike wasn’t in the band, it would be me, in my basement, hanging out alone with a keyboard,” Abbott confesses. Not one to let his friend put himself down, Fadem adds: “I’m the brawn. I get the shit done, Josh is the genius behind it all.” It is clear that the bandmates share a deep mutual respect, as well as a tendency for reflexive self-deprecation.
Beyond compatible personalities and a passion for music, Abbott and Fadem have another key thing in common: Jewish mothers. Musicians often complain that their parents aren’t supportive of their career choice; Josh and Mike have the opposite problem. Like so many matriarchs of the tribe of Israel, Abbott and
Fadem's moms love to tell the world how special their kids are. “We’re like: shut up, we’re trying to be all cool and awesome and dark and our moms are going crazy tagging up Facebook and shit,” the former remarks jokingly.
Although Abbott welcomes input from his bandmates, New Numbers is not a democracy. He learned from his time in Jealous Girlfriends that giving everyone equal input is not necessarily a good thing. “I would have had to water down all my songs to nine little compromises on a records, just out of the fear of having my friends not think that I’m a jerk.”
As for future goals, New Numbers look forward to touring outside the U.S. “Once you see Lawrence, Kansas 12 times, you kind of want to start going on other tours in other places,” Abbott remarks. I jokingly ask them where finding more exotic groupies ranks in their list of motivations. Fadem laughs. “There are no groupies. We’re like, nerds. You have to hang out to find out if there are groupies. We don’t hang out. We play and then we’re out of there.”
Despite their openness to success, Abbott and Fadem are not going to chase it. Both know from past experience that doing so can destroy a band. “What we do is make music, so we just keep making it,” Abbot says.
>New Numbers
Aug. 28, The Rock Shop, 249 4th Ave. (at President St.), Brooklyn, 718-230-5740; 8, $10.