Daytrotter Session - Jun 5, 2012
- Welcome to Daytrotter
- Chinese Braille
- Bricks To The Bones
Quinn Walker was borrowing paper out of our printer on the day that Suckers were last here at the Horseshack. It was the first day of October of 2011, when they stopped on by, and these three new songs – from the band’s just-released sophomore album, “Candy Salad” – were still being written. Walker was finishing up some lyrics in our lounge area prior to popping into the live room to track the songs on the fly. We couldn’t be sure how much of any of the songs was finished, but they came together in a way that seems especially Suckers. It’s the Brooklyn band’s signature to be moderately chaotic, while still assuming some catchy sense of direction with every one of their songs. The new album seems even more set on interviewing that self-destructive nature of the self that sometimes can’t be helped. It’s destructive, without question, but there’s also no disagreeing that even some of the most self-destructive people out there – even some of the most fucked up relationships – never meant to get that way. They always hoped that they’d be saved, not scrapped. With “Candy Salad,” Walker, guitarist/vocalist Austin Fisher, bassist/keyboardist Pan and newly departed drummer Brian Aiken throw themselves into some tight spots that have suddenly become the quiet types, where all parties can see the crossroads. It’s all up for grabs what’s going to happen next, but someone’s got to make the next move and it’s a staring match so far. It’s hard to tell if, with most of the relationships that we hear about on the record, anyone was better off for having been mixed up in it. It’s exactly what they’re trying to figure out. They’re trying to get to the very meaning of what their love is, or whether they can even call it love. The chorus from “Bricks To The Bones,” where Walker and Fisher sing about someone’s love being like home, an all-consuming, but shaky affair. It’s bricks and bones, surrounding these people. They can’t leave themselves and they find it hard to leave any of it behind. It’s there – like it our not – no matter how it lets you down. Here, we sense that Suckers have been seeking with these new songs. There are plenty of teary moments in “Chinese Braille,” where miscommunication is sinking some folks and over on “Lydia,” once again, there are a few people who aren’t sure what they have or haven’t done to one another. Walker sings, “Didn’t I change you or is it me who has changed?” It’s a moment that hangs in the air occasionally on this record and we think to ourselves just how comfortable we are with the concept of people flailing away, grabbing for anything, feeling with their little toes any kind of solid footing they can find.