Brandon Hagen is in an enviable position. His indie rock band Vundabar just had its biggest release yet with their fourth album, Either Light. For the new LP, the band teamed up with veteran producer Patrick Hyland to push the band’s sound to glorious new heights. This new sonic direction lends buoyancy to Hagen’s sharp, dense poetry and make Either Light a dizzying and joyous listen.
Allston Pudding caught up with the singer-songwriter to discuss Vundabar’s new album, The Sopranos, quarantine, the future of work, and creating a utopian society.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Allston Pudding: This was the first time you guys were working with an outside producer (longtime Mitski collaborator, Patrick Hyland). Was he involved in the songwriting process at all or were the songs all fully formed when you started working together?
Brandon Hagen: He didn’t do much of the songwriting with us. He made suggestions once we were recording in regards to arrangement and little tweaks here and there. But no, the songs were done and ready to go. Some of the instrumentation we left open ended and figured it out in the studio, so that’s really where he had most of his input. His approach to guitar sounds is a lot different than mine. I liked that a lot because it brought things. His impulses are just different.
AP: You started your own label this time around?
BH: We’ve had the label going for all our releases, but for this one, we were able to get some distribution help, which is really great because it’s the first time that the record will be in stores around the world.
AP: That’s sick. How does that feel?
BH: Good! It was kind of just the last piece that we couldn’t really do on our own in a way that was effective, so it was just helpful. It’s not something we necessarily think about. If you want a record you can get it at a show or online but it’s not really in record stores. It’s just nice.
AP: As the band grows, did you feel that it was necessary to also grow the label?
BH: I don’t know. It’s such an interesting time for labels in general. We made the imprint because we were like, “Oh we’re putting these records out ourselves, let’s call it something” and we did do a couple releases early on, but I don’t know. I think the biggest thing any label offers is that they fund things, and that’s definitely helpful. But it’s this weird, transitional period where a lot of the overhead of recording is not what it used to be, and the overhead of distribution isn’t what it used to be. I don’t know if it’s essential. It’s now this thing of picking and choosing what we need and what makes the most sense for us, and so far it’s been staying independent.
AP: Do you intend to continue to be independent?
BH: I would be fine with it. It’s sort of situational. If there was a deal that felt right, that would be a net good. A lot of it is doing the math and trying to figure out if you’re losing money. For now I think we’re happy with what we have going. It just makes planning easy, you know? You have to get four people on board to be like, “This is what we’re doing.”
I think with a larger group of people around it can just become a bureaucracy of, “We want to put this record out” and “Well, we have to schedule that a year out from now because we have all these other releases.” That’s the nice thing about it, it’s really quick. But I mean it definitely helps to have someone footing the bill, and you get a staff working for you and all that. It’s an interesting time to be putting music out because you have options. You’re not like, “I have a record, I need a label or nothing will happen with it.”
AP: What was different about your songwriting approach this time?
BH: A lot of the songs were written on piano or synth instead of guitar. I made some rules for myself. A lot of our old records relied on big dynamics, so I wouldn’t let myself do this big dynamic shift from verses to choruses. I was listening to a lot of country music and these songs would have two or three chords, so a lot of it was limiting what I would allow myself to do in terms of musical arrangements, just that challenge of keeping it wildly simple but still engaging and still a good song. You recognize what your tricks are that you used in the past and make rules for yourself so you can’t use those anymore, so you have to figure out new ways of writing.
AP: How are you finding the livestream process? Is it fun?
BH: It’s okay. Everyone’s trying to roll with what’s been thrown their way, keep things moving. I think the hardest thing is getting a quality recording. But it’s fun, it’s nice to have to try and reimagine the songs and rearrange them to work for that. Luckily Drew [McDonald, Vundabar drummer] and I live together, that makes things easier.
AP: Do you think the livestream thing is going to continue once shows start happening again?
BH: I don’t care for it really, and there’s not the visceral experience of music that you get at a show. I mean it’s something to do in the meantime. Certain websites and people that email us being like, “We’re trying to create a VR concert,” and I’m just like, “Can you not disassemble the last profitable part of the music industry, please?” I’m a little wary of it, I guess.
Photo by POND Creative
AP: Indie rock hasn’t really concerned itself with the car as a lyrical motif — that’s more the realm of country, hip-hop, and Bruce Springsteen. It’s interesting that you’ve grappled with the car as a concept.
BH: I was really inspired by movies and the role of cars, the symbolic value of a car and that being translated on screen. It can just be so many things, and linked to this really positive feeling as well as linked to this foreboding dread. There’s a lot of dissonance in them. They’re great, but they’re also part of this thing that is undeniably going to kill us all, this march of progress that needs to be dialed back.
AP: Why do you think The Sopranos has maintained relevance? I feel like in 2019-2020, there’s been this Sopranos renaissance.
BH: It’s more a part of the cultural conversation now than when it was made. That show has a cult following. It’s just been that slow growth. The conversations that that show starts are as relevant as ever. When someone like Donald Trump is president, an inspection of the male ego is just everywhere.
AP: We are kind of living in Sopranos times.
BH: We are, yeah. It’s this really weird time where it feels like, especially now with all this COVID weirdness, it’s just this inkling of “maybe we’re doomed.” As you watch the show, it becomes evident pretty quickly that [Tony Soprano] is someone who wants to turn things around, but he cannot and will not. I feel that’s why he’s a tragic character and what is heartbreaking about him. The world he’s made for himself won’t allow it, which is the same situation everyone is in right now. I got really deep into that show as we were writing.
AP: Are clowns having a moment?
BH: I feel like I’m the wrong person to ask. I guess what I was going for with [Either Light track “Jester”] is the fragility of a sense of identity that is based on your line of work or what you do with your days. When you’re recording, when you’re writing, when you’re on tour—in the doing it’s validating. It’s the formation of an identity and a sense of self and when it stops that sense of self goes away to a certain degree. I was reading a book by an author who lived through the Great Depression. What we’re going through now where people no longer have jobs and their sense of self is sort of leveled. If you’re a jester who lost their job, the context for you and your understanding of yourself has changed. That’s kind of absurd.
AP: Right, you’re still funny if you’re not a working jester.
BH: But then it’s like, “Are you a jester?” The impact of work on people’s lives and their mental well-being is really interesting to me, and the fact that unemployment and high levels of mental health problems correspond with each other. It plays a really big role in how people feel, especially in the States. To assume that that’s going to stay the same is just not the case anymore. The things that protect people have been disassembled. It’s a song about a loss of identity, and the process that’s happening in the States right now of things that hold together that sense of identity are kind of coming apart.
AP: Do you think we are moving toward a post-work society?
BH: I don’t think we are, I think other countries might go there first, but I think with our recent political history the infrastructure isn’t there. I think for that to be in place you need a strong government with a lot of public programs. The last 30 years of American politics have been privatization and under-funding. I think it could happen in other places, maybe Germany or northern Europe. Again, it’s that thing that people have been conditioned to think here—where if you don’t work, you don’t deserve anything. Not even post-work, but people being able to live without the kind of suffering that Americans have to face. It’s just bizarre. We’ve toured other places that have those systems in place of free healthcare, free education, grants, really long maternity leaves that not only benefit individuals and enrich their lives but [affords them] the agency to be a part of the political process. But here it’s so far from that. I’d love that. That’d be cool.
AP: Do you own chickens?
BH: Yeah! We moved into this place and the landlord owns the chickens. We engage with them now and again, we hoot and holler at them.
AP: Do you tend to them?
BH: There’s not much. You feed them, you change the wood chips in the pen. They’re really easy pets. And they’re sweet. I didn’t know that they coo, but they coo.
AP: A lot of people, currently, are thinking about owning the means of their food production and it seems like chickens are an easy start.
BH: Definitely. It’s wild. We wake up and there’s nine eggs. I would recommend to anyone who has the space. I think the overhead’s really low, too.
AP: Are you playing Animal Crossing?
BH: No, what game is that?
AP: It’s kind of like owning chickens. You tend to the island and you make everyone who lives there a happier person. It’s kind of like a millennial escapist fantasy.
BH: I like that. Maybe that’ll be the inspiration for a new political platform that is about Universal Basic Income.
AP: Are you a gamer?
BH: I’m not a gamer. Drew is a little bit, he has the Switch. We’ve been really into Catan. It’s really intense. The nerves run high.
AP: You play one on one Catan?
BH: No, usually four or five people. But we say terrible things to each other during a Catan game.
AP: Is that how you’ve been mostly passing the time?
BH: We’ve been biking a lot. I’m doing some audio work for a festival so I have that to keep busy, and then just trying to figure out what the state of live music is for the next year. Those are the things that are taking up most of my time.
AP: Do you feel an obligation to be productive?
BH: I don’t know. Productivity is confusing, especially when it’s linked to writing music. The things that make me write songs aren’t necessarily work. That part of it I don’t view as work but it’s all part of a process where I’m like, “I’m reading a book. This book has me thinking thoughts. I’m jotting in my journal and I’m getting hooked on one or two images.” And I’m playing my guitar later and slowly this will turn into a song or a concept to make into a song.
This is pretty close to my lifestyle in past years of having tour finish and having two months off where you’re sort of in between things and working on things but there’s nothing pressing. I’ve been conditioned to handle quarantine alright. We live in a really quiet town so it’s really not much different.
Listen to “Either Light” below.