Catching Up With: Braids
Braids has been spotted. From across the hotel lobby, a pair of fans recognizes the Canadian band, and rushes over eager to chat. Sure it happens from time to time—but rarely outside their Montreal neighborhood. It isn’t the first instance they’ve been made since flying in to perform at Iceland Airwaves. As drummer Austin Tufts notes, a few days prior, they were hiking through the wilderness on their way to a hot spring when they were recognized. Twice. “It’s freaking me out!” he jokes good-naturedly.
Braids’ album, Deep in the Iris, touches heavily on this idea, of being seen for who you really are. Frontwoman Raphaelle Standall-Preston has never shied away from the truth, but here the lyrics contain an extra pitch of heartbreak—tales objectification, childhood trauma, and longing for acceptance are parceled out alongside jazz beats, skittering electronics, and acoustic piano. But glitchy, warm, and brimming with emotion, Deep in the Iris is a complex song-cycle that can’t be defined by its sadness alone.
We caught up with Braids the day after they performed at Airwaves to discuss summoning creativity, emotion limits, and (naturally) the Iceland’s de facto art queen, Björk. Deep in the Iris is out now on Arbutus/Flemish Eye.
Paste: Deep in the Iris feels a lot different than your previous albums.
Austin Tufts: It’s true. I think every time we go to record, we try and really check in with ourselves on a very deep level. What are we trying to express here and why are we doing it? Every turn, every time we make a new record those reasons change. And those things change. This one, I think all of us wanted to push pretty hard against the icy and darker side of Flourish/Perish. That’s why we ended up going all the way to Arizona to record our album. To get into the woods and just be in the sunlight.
Raphaelle Standell-Preston: It’s completely different from where we grew up. So much sun! It’s the polar opposite of Montreal in the dead of winter. In a box with no windows, recording a record. We have no windows in our studio!
Tufts: The entire process was 11 months of being in our studio. We built our studio from the ground up, it’s nothing super glamorous. It’s a small fifteen-foot by 12-foot box with seven-and-a-half-foot tall ceilings.
Standell-Preston: Is that how big it is? Wow! It’s tiny. That’s two Johns! Our soundman John is six foot seven. [laughs]
Paste: Do you feel like you need to leave home in order to get a better sense of your lives?
Tufts: I don’t know because I’m always doing it.
Standell-Preston: Yeah, that’s our life.
Taylor Smith: Creatively it does help to put yourself in a different environment.
Paste: Looking for why you’re doing something—if you met together and realized you don’t have a reason yet, would you wait longer to record?
Smith: That’s what we’re in right now. Making the choice to take a few months off because we’re not ready. We haven’t done enough exploring since doing the last record to have something new to day. Or a new direction to go in.
Tufts: We’re brimming with creativity, but we haven’t developed enough since the last one to say something new.
Standell-Preston: I don’t know if I’m brimming with creativity.
Tufts: I am. I just want to play piano all day.
Paste: What does it feel like for you when you are brimming with creativity?
Standell-Preston: You just start thinking, anything that’s really simple that you pass by, you start thinking of it as more. And being beautiful. [grabs the lamp hanging above her] I would start thinking about these cylinders. Why they’re black. Your mind just switches gears. But right now I just want to have a nap and get coffee. What am I going to eat? That’s what I’m thinking of right now. That tends to happen for me on tour, I put out so much that I don’t have anything left for myself. You have to fill yourself back up. That’s what I’m going to be spending the next three months doing. Filling back up and reading lot. Creature comforts.
Tufts: For me, as a drummer, I can start feeling beats and rhythms in my body. I can tell that there’s something that wants to come out. I do this all the time, they can attest to that. But sometimes, I can feel it. Music is a very physical thing for me. I can almost feel what my hands would be doing on a piano to replicate what I’m doing in my head. I know what chords I’m going to play. If I sit down at a piano, I know what I want to play. It’s weird—but it’s tactile. You know when you’re at a swimming pool and you’re about to dive off a diving board, you can almost feel what it’s going to feel like to do it before you do it. It’s kind of like that for me. You get this tactile tingling.