On an uncharacteristically cold spring evening, Capitol Hill’s Pine Street is buzzing with its usual animated Saturday-night crowd. A river of messy-haired hipsters flows in and out of Linda’s and the Cha Cha, while those looking for a place to dance continue up the street to the Bus Stop. People duck into Bimbo’s and Hot Mama’s Pizza for a quick bite to eat before scurrying up a few more blocks for a show at Neumo’s, while others dodge traffic in the crosswalks or patiently wait for a bus going downtown. Everyone is looking for a place to go—to drink, to eat, and to see and be seen. The streets are crawling with cool.
In the midst of the night’s familiar action, a 10-foot Penske moving truck pulls over to the side of the road across from Linda’s. Before anyone takes notice, three unassuming young men hop out of a nearby van and, in a matter of seconds, the back of the truck is opened up, revealing a drum set and small PA. A couple of microphones are quickly set up while Colin McBride and Danny Oleson strap on their guitar and bass, respectively, and their bandmate Jasen Samford jumps into the back of the truck and sits behind the drums. Curious onlookers begin to crowd around them and just as McBride strums the first chord, he hollers into the mic “Hi! We’re Speaker Speaker!”
The band burns through a loud set of infectious and angsty pop songs. One friend circles the action with a handheld video camera while strangers snap pictures with camera phones and bob their heads approvingly to the beat. Even the cops seem to enjoy the show; their only request is that someone needs to move the double-parked “getaway car” out of the flow of traffic.
Then after four or five blisteringly quick and catchy tunes, McBride, Samford, and Oleson jump into the waiting van and drive away with the group of strangers still cheering them on.
***
“I think your article should start out saying something like, ‘Man, I can’t believe how amazing Speaker Speaker are,'” says McBride while holding back his laughter. He flicks a cigarette butt from his fingertips, brushes his brown shaggy hair out of his eyes, and jumps down from the curb on which he was carefully balancing. “Speaker Speaker,” he continues, “are the next Nirvana, Beatles, Jawbreaker, and Sunny Day Real Estate—combined!”
McBride grins and then opens the door and heads back inside Magpie Cage, a recording studio hidden inside a small brick building on a side street in Baltimore, Maryland.
It’s June. And even though only a couple of months have passed since their guerrilla-style street performance, that memory is far from their minds as they sit 3,000 miles away from the Pine Street intersection they once invaded. Right now, they’re focused on their future. Speaker Speaker have spent at least 12 hours a day for the past four days here at Magpie Cage, and that’s just the beginning of the two-week process of recording their debut full-length album with J. Robbins, the celebrated producer of a long list of artists including Against Me! and the Dismemberment Plan. (Robbins is also the illustrious frontman of the defunct posthardcore band Jawbox, but I’ll spare you that long fan letter).
That Speaker Speaker find themselves in this position, one for which many well-established musicians would likely give up a kidney, is an awesome accomplishment in itself. But to see such a big and ballsy move from a band that’s been playing together for just over a year, well, that only supports what their attention-grabbing antics suggest—Speaker Speaker are out to make some waves.
Their blueprint for world domination began in 2004, when Oleson and McBride (who were bandmates in the disbanded math-rock group Vermilion) began playing music together again. The next year they met Samford through a mutual friend, and before the end of 2005, the band self-released a three-song EP titled Again & Again & Again. Impressively, the CD flaunted bright cartoon cover art by Jesse LeDoux, the talented former Sub Pop employee famous for his distinctive album art for bands like the Shins and Pedro the Lion. But Again & Again & Again was more than a pretty package. It was a quick punch of power pop that appealed to those with a soft spot for bright and catchy melodies. Along with local music fans, Seattle radio and newspapers took notice, too, often praising the band for their endearing, well-crafted tunes.
Then Speaker Speaker got put on The Stranger‘s 2006 Big Shot ballot. At the time, the band had high hopes of recording a full-length record with Robbins, but since they were (and still are, actually) without a label and outside funding, they needed to come up with the cash to pay for the project themselves. To make it happen, they had to win the $2,000 cash prize that came along with the Big Shot title.
To ensure they stood out on the ballot of the 13 local artists, including heavy hitters like Panda and Angel, the Bats of Belfry, and Common Market, Speaker Speaker and friends took to the streets of the city and relentlessly bombarded crowded bars, record stores, and restaurants, urging people to vote for them. The band’s sweet acoustic serenades and upbeat songs blaring from a boom box impressed the people enough that most of them happily obliged. But it was the aforementioned surprise street performance that sealed the deal. Speaker Speaker’s hardcore campaign tactics earned them over 800 votes in the contest, and they were announced the grand-prize winners at the Big Shot finale, defeating fellow semifinalists Tennis Pro, Romance, and Thee Emergency. Speaker Speaker’s fate was decided; they booked studio time and traveled to Maryland.
***
Back in Baltimore, the evening air has “cooled” to a sticky 90 degrees. An army of delicate fireflies lights up the twilight air with their fluorescent green glow, while a thunderstorm looms in the distance and threatens to wash out the entire city. Inside the studio, the boys are exhausted yet ecstatic despite the oncoming weather. Most of the instrumentation is done, many of the vocals are tackled; smiles abound while they listen to the rough mix of songs blasting from the speakers.
While Again & Again & Again may have led listeners to believe that Speaker Speaker were all about sugar-coating a broken heart with magnetic melodies and poppy handclaps, the full-length incarnation of the trio brings out a more intense side of the band’s songwriting. Now they’re kicking and screaming to be heard. They feed back and distort their guitars while refusing to go along with anyone’s bullshit in songs like “Call It Off” and “We Won’t March.” But unsurprisingly, the sometimes-sour messages still come wrapped in a catchy and upbeat package. This time around, there’s just some grit to make sure their point isn’t simply brushed off as “cute.”
They wrote their record, they played every show, and saved every cent in order to get their asses across the country to record it with the producer of their dreams, but now Speaker Speaker have yet another obstacle to tackle—they have to get this still unnamed album out to the masses.
It was a brave move to make the thing before they had a way to release it (read: a label), but it was also a smart one. They did everything on their own terms. The risk is worth it, says Oleson. “Even if nothing happens with [the album],” he says, “it’ll still be worth it because we’re walking away with what we wanted, a record we’re really proud of.”
Something tells me, though, based on the boys’ track record so far, if there’s any band that can make it work, it’s Speaker Speaker. Even if it means they have to force themselves onto the masses via another surprise attack.
