In case there’s any concern, diagnosis Anthony Anzaldo isn’t fazed by the question anymore.
The exact wording of the question varies depending on your maturity and loyalty to Ceremony, look the California-based punk outfit Anzaldo’s been the primary songwriter for since 2006, and can be found in various iterations from top tier reviews to YouTube comment sections. If it had to be concentrated though, the question is simple, but painfully relentless:
Why couldn’t Ceremony have just stayed a hardcore band?
“This is our fifth LP,” Anzaldo offers mid-discussion on the permanence of bands in the scene, “what hardcore band’s fifth LP is honestly your favorite?”
For a band named after Joy Division’s last/New Order’s first single, transition was hardwired to be a compulsory function from album to album, but Ceremony is nevertheless a case of extremes. 2006’s Violence, Violence and 2008’s Still Nothing Moves You secured the band as one of the most vital acts in hardcore, indulging powerviolence roots with blistering live sets.
“I still stand by those early records,” Anzaldo assures. “I love those records and we still play songs from every album we’ve done, but if I was showing my grandmother our band, I would steer her clear of ‘He-God [Has Favored Our Undertakings]’.”
With Anzaldo in fishnet gloves and smeared makeup, the sense that Ceremony thrived in poking at the tired tropes of the mid-2000’s hardcore band was ever present, but the urge to further their insubordination came in 2010 as the band signed to respected punk label Bridge 9.
The resulting Rohnert Park (named after their suburban hometown an hour outside of Oakland) was an official jump from adolescence, arriving with reasonable shock from the hardcore community and a reawakening for both their fanbase and the band themselves.
“I remember when we wrote Rohnert Park and ‘Doldrums’… the first time we were going into playing that one live in California, Ross said, “Man, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sing that kind of song.” And I remember telling him to just sing it like it’s not an obscure song for us. Present it like it’s the most normal thing that we’d ever do.”
The mantra of normalcy became a necessity for the band. 2012’s Zoo took more cues from Wire and Mission of Burma than any of Ceremony’s contemporaries, and heralded a new deal with indie giants Matador Records. Somewhere in the comedown of touring on Zoo, singer and lyricist Ross Farrar ended a long term relationship, which in turn left the band to debate whether the obligatory “break-up record” was their next move.
“I mean, how many people have written the, ‘I’ve broken up with my girlfriend and now I’m sad’ record?”, Anzaldo acknowledges mid-laugh. In another breath, he insists that their latest offering, The L-Shaped Man, is far from the monochromatic sad record used to purge rather than grow.
“The experience he went through is not necessarily different than most other people, but Ross definitely was not a serial monogamist [before this relationship]. Being with someone the way he was with this person was kinda new for him. He put a lot of himself into that relationship, experience, and life… so [L-Shaped Man] is really more about dealing with loss. Ross wrote it in a kind of broad way by using the 2nd person, so I think it sounds very relatable.”
Framed in their most post-punk driven sound to date, The L-Shaped Man certainly aims for relation, but maintains icy jabs at an unnamed “You” as Farrar conjures the baritone anguishes of Peter Murphy and Ian Curtis. Still, Ceremony maintains themselves as an inclusive band, a fact most evident by their live show demographics.
“There’s not one type of kid or person to see Ceremony in 2015. It’s obviously something we’re very proud of, but I didn’t really see it happen until a few years ago. We met up with Cold World for a show in some suburb outside of New Orleans and there was primarily your modern day hardcore, “tough guy” kids for their show and I remember walking into the show like, “oh my god, our shows don’t look like this anymore! When did that happen?”
Anzaldo ultimately attributes it to their faking of normalcy, which has become less of a practiced confidence booster and more of what has kept Ceremony together for the past decade. “We’re not trying to do this,” he emphasizes, “and that’s what I love about this band and what we’ve been able to do. We’re all very different people with very different tastes in music, but we’re just a bunch of freaks.”
The L-Shaped Man is out now on Matador Records. Ceremony will be appearing tonight at Cuisine En Locale with Pity Sex and Tony Molina.