The original Dutch Interiors are a set of paintings by Spanish artist Joan Miró. In 1928, the painter visited the Netherlands and brought home postcards of 17th century Dutch artwork. Inspired by his souvenirs, Miró created his own versions, distorted by his own surrealist lens. His renditions keep the color palettes of the originals and their basic composition. But he turns the forms into abstractions. The static realism of the originals become dynamic and playful. With the Dutch Interiors, Miró made something new out of old forms. The collection is a statement on the art of reinterpretation. They both honor and subvert the legacy of the originals.
It’s also a fitting name for the Los Angeles sextet. Dutch Interior are something of an anachronism. They’re a group of lifelong friends who love the same artists and have played in various bands together. Naturally, they came together and recorded songs for fun. That’s an origin story as timeless as they come.
While their two previous albums—2021’s Kindergarten and 2023’s Blinded By Fame—were low-stakes and lo-fi affairs, Moneyball is more intentional. On their Fat Possum debut, the band embraces their namesake, reinterpreting past forms in a different light. There’s the Merle Haggard-esque shuffle of “Sweet Time,” (which includes an interpretation of the Allman Brothers Band’s “Jessica”); the ‘70s FM chug of “Sandcastle Molds”; the Harvest Neil Young warmth on “Wood Knot.” This is old-sounding music made by a group that’s done their reading and understands its musical heritage. Sure, Moneyball relies on old tricks, but Dutch Interior gives them new life.
The band’s songwriting process—where each member writes his own material and sings it on the record—also works wonders. Moneyball displays the band’s range: Each member traverses his own terrain with different moods and approaches to songwriting. Connor Reeves’ songs—”Canada,” “Wood Knot,” and “Horse”—are the closest here to country. They’re lackadaisical tunes with plain, effective writing (“Home sweet home / Live laugh love / Plant my ass / Deeper than a root”). Shane Barton’s “Science Fiction” and “Beekeeping” are moodier and sparser pieces, the moonlight to Reeves’ country-lite sunshine. “Science Fiction” is an ominous love song, held together by tense string arrangements from Sean Brennan (Sloppy Jane, fantasy of a broken heart). Jack Nugent, a grad school drop-out studying English literature, writes with illusive imagery. His writing on “Christ on the Mast” was inspired by Sarah Orne Jewett’s The Country of the Pointed Firs; anything is fair game for a literature grad student. Davis Stewart’s “Life (So Crazy)” is Moneyball at its most haunting. The track is built around an earthy drone. It’s mysterious and quiet like a forest at night.
Noah Kurtz’s songs—the twinkling, picking “Sweet Time” and “Fourth Street”—stand out as the album’s brightest and friendliest. When the group finally turns the amplifiers up for the riff on “Fourth Street,” it’s an earned release. The song is named after their Long Beach neighborhood where they recorded Kindergarten. It’s the thesis to Moneyball’s endearing humanism: an ode to the friendships that make up the band and hold it all down.
If anything, Moneyball could be even bigger, louder, and longer. In June of 2024, Dutch Interior released the crunchy, textured barnburner “ecig,” though it didn’t find its way onto the album. “Ecig” shows off another dimension for the band—one with more bite and snarling guitar. Nothing on Moneyball is like it, and the album could benefit from more in its vein.
Despite the members’ varying songwriting approaches, Moneyball never loses the core identity of Dutch Interior. In an interview with Paste, Nugent explains the band’s method: “We bring songs in, and when they’re released to the band, it’s no longer your baby…You’re surrendering your song to Dutch.” While it helps that the five vocalists all sound relatively similar, the real identity of Dutch Interior comes from the community of the band themselves. It’s in the way that their personalities balance each other out: country twang alongside eerie folk, electric riff-rock next to delicate acoustic guitar. It’s the sounds of their friendships baked into the songs: natural, comfortable, and communal coexistence. That’s what makes Moneyball greater than the sum of its parts.
Andy Steiner is a writer and musician. When he’s not reviewing albums, you can find him collecting ‘80s Rush merchandise. Follow him on Twitter.
