Without pinpointing concrete musical influences or venturing inarticulate comparisons, it’s safe to say that geography colors the Old Haunts’ eerie punk sound.
“I think [the dark weather] definitely affects things,” says guitarist and vocalist Craig Extine. “It can get pretty depressing around here in the winter, so everyone needs something to focus on—a project or something—just to get them through those months.”
The Olympia-Seattle based trio is amenable to a friend’s description of the collective result: swamp rock. Their anxious, brooding dirges smack of the dark skies and debilitating precipitation that dominate the Evergreen State most of the year. Between the Haunts’ brisk, minor key guitar-bass interplay, propulsive drumming, and Extine’s tortured yowl, they achieve a decidedly dark sound.
“I don’t think we overdo it,” says Extine of the devilish tone on the Haunts’ 2005 debut full-length, Fallow Field. “It’s just a feeling we like.” He’s right: Field‘s menace is matched by its nonchalant nature. Fiendish, spindly guitar waltzes with fuzz bass and taut percussion to keep feet tapping, but not without a hint of apprehension. Riffs on tracks like “Deflect It” and “You Could Never Know” sound instantly familiar, as if checking in from a past life, and Field nominates the Old Haunts as one of the most aptly named outfits in recent memory. Extine’s vocal delivery lacks contemporary peers, but its distinct nasal pitch guarantees continued comparisons to Tom Verlaine, and he sounds morose regardless of subject matter. “Give us something fatal and give us some romance” (“Cult Baby”) is the most telling extract from the lyric sheet.
“It might sound different if we were in Florida,” says Extine. “Practicing on a sunny patio next to the Jacuzzi, we might end up with a different sound.”
“But maybe not, though,” counters bassist Scott Seckington. And on this point, prevailing evidence may support the former hypothesis. Conversation over coffee on a recent fall afternoon suggested that the boys are better suited to produce the soundtrack for no other aesthetic.
The trio conveys a fitting amalgamation of stoicism and solemnness, and it rebukes any doubts about the sincerity of Field‘s overall tone, one that’s familiar and intangible, buoyant but fatalist. This is music for people who would stop and watch the band on the deck of the sinking Titanic, or, more specifically, those who’d wind up dancing the last few minutes away.
Field features work from three different periods in the band’s existence—compiling two self-titled EPs, released in 2002 and 2003, and six previously unreleased tracks with Danny Sasaki (Enemymine, ex-Mocket) on drums. The varied sound comes not only from Extine and Seckington’s progressing songwriting skills, but also from the three different drummers who sit in over the course of the album. Take “The Old World” and “Deflect It” as the polar opposites here. Recorded for the initial EP in 2002 and featuring Natalie Cox (Popular Music) on drums, the former seethes with an antique feel. With swelling organ and whirling old-time piano, the relatively slow number hints at the potential dramatic impact of the Haunts’ ingredients. Whereas the latter, with its creeping guitar lines and Sasaki’s conservative, stutter-stepped percussion, showcases a band that’s ready to shake the mopes and call its audience to the dance floor.
“Out of Sight,” then, is the album’s mean. Dub Narcotic Sound System’s Chris Sutton—the second interim beat backbone for the Haunts—lends a heavy hand to the energetic guitar chug, and Extine snarls away as the guitars taunt Sutton’s thick beat.
“We’ve talked about [more varied instrumentation],” says Extine of the band’s upcoming record, slated for a May release. He’s addressing what may be Field‘s only caveat: The Old Haunts have found a sound that works, but the most daunting challenge on the detour around the sophomore slump is a more varied approach.
Curtis Phillips, the band’s original drummer, has returned to fill out the Haunts’ permanent roster. Taught by his father, Phillips has been drumming since childhood; Seckington took up the piano, via formal lessons, at age 9; and Extine is largely self-taught. The different backgrounds provide the trio with a sound that’s too studied to peg as simply punk, but too raw to avoid using the word as a starting point. Still, something about the songs’ surreal reminiscence suggests that the ghosts of their musical past aren’t as transparent as a simple spirit of ’77 coming back from the dead.
