Seattle band Great Grandpa are a Rolling Stone Artist You Need to Know. (From left: Pat Goodwin, Alex Menne, Carrie Goodwin, Dylan Hanwright, and Cam LaFlam.)
Chona KasingerWhen Pat Goodwin brought an acoustic guitar onstage at a sold-out Great Grandpa show in Brooklyn this past fall, one audience member responded by shouting “Free Bird!”
“I wish we fucking played ‘Free Bird!’” Goodwin told the crowd.
“I really don’t,” said lead singer/bassist Alex Menne.
Acoustic guitars are still somewhat of a novelty at Great Grandpa shows. The quintet, which formed in Seattle in 2014, have spent the past few years expanding upon, if not quite discarding, their early grunge-garage associations. With Four of Arrows, their remarkable second studio album, they deepen the four-chord feedback-pop of their 2017 debut, Plastic Cough, into a more contemplative, textured folk-rock in the vein of artists like Big Thief and (Sandy) Alex G.
“I think we felt obliged to operate within this paradigm: This is who we are, we’re a garage rock band, we play in basements and we have loud amps,” Goodwin says. “But suddenly, once that happened, it was like ‘Well, this is our real band, and now we have this platform. What do we actually want to make?’”
The band, comprising Goodwin, Menne, Cam LaFlam on drums, Dylan Hanwright on guitar, and Carrie Goodwin (currently on touring hiatus as she finishes school) on bass, worked hard on Four of Arrows, often building out songs with multiple distinct parts and melodic structures. The foursome spent the majority of a recent interview after their show in Brooklyn dissecting the intricacies of that process: explaining how fragments of verses and bridges from various voice memos ended up getting rejiggered and combined into the 11 songs that make up the album.
“It was like one of those YouTube videos where someone is painting something, and you’re not sure what they’re painting,” Hanwright says of the recording process with producer Mike Davis. “And they’re rotating the canvas and you’re like, ‘What the hell is happening?’ and then all of a sudden they rotate the canvas just right, and the painting is done, and all of a sudden the vision becomes clear, and it’s like, ‘Whoa.’”
Part of what further distinguishes and complicates Great Grandpa’s working process is that each band member contributes lyrics to Menne, who then interprets the songs as the group’s frontperson. Before that happens, there are extensive conversations about each song’s meaning and inspiration; the process of internalizing another person’s narrative can be intense.
“It’s emotionally challenging, but also emotionally very rewarding,” says Menne. “There’s a total lack of self-consciousness, where you’re like, okay, I can see this song for what it is instead of being like, ‘Does this thing that I made myself suck?’ But it is also really challenging just to get into that headspace. For this album, I was allotted a very safe space to just do what I needed to do to get into the zone. There was a lot of crying in dark rooms in the studio.”
The first show Great Grandpa ever played was Halloween 2014, at a friend’s house where several bandmates had previously lived in in Seattle. The band was supposed to be a side project: Hanwright and Pat Goodwin had been in another band they describe as “loud, noisy” and “overwrought,” while Menne had been playing “annoying sad folk music in my bedroom.”
Great Grandpa was something different. Early songs like “Cheeto Lust” and “Mostly Here” were unadorned, hook-filled, lo-fi power-punk. “It felt so refreshing to play in a band where you could come to the practice space and everyone could learn the song in one day,” says Hanwright. ”Just simple pop music. It felt like this breath of fresh air.”
But after releasing Plastic Cough (with its irresistibly catchy single “Teen Challenge”), the band quickly grew wary of being tagged with contrived labels like “bubblegum grunge.” “I hate that phrase so much,” says Menne. “I literally despise it…I know people who use it to describe themselves, and that’s totally cool. But I just feel like when it’s that rock critic voice using it, it seems very condescending — like, ‘Oh, your voice sounds like a lady.’”
“We’ve never subscribed to grunge, but we’ve gotten that label our entire existence,” says Goodwin. “I’m convinced it’s only because we’re a rock band from Seattle.”
“Well, we did label ourselves ‘grunge-pop snack-rock’ for a while,” adds Menne.
Within moments, the band steers this heightened conversation about labels and genre into something more up their alley: “AC/VC”, one of their favorite YouTube mashup videos, which merges Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” and AC/DC’s “Back in Black.” (“We used it once as our walkout song,” says Goodwin).
Several of the best new songs on Four of Arrows (“Treat Jar,” “Bloom”) began, it turns out, with Pat Goodwin making up placeholder lyrics about his family’s late dog Wilson. “I remember sitting with a guitar, just singing to him,” Goodwin says. “The original fake lyric was, ‘Wilson looked at me/He said, take me to the treat jar/Take me to the treat jar/Won’t you please.’ He would look at you, and then he’d look at the treat jar, and then he’d look at you again.’”
“Classic dog stuff,” says Menne.
Eventually, Hanwright reworked “Treat Jar” into a moving pop-punk anthem about the crushing demands of working service jobs. “Bloom,” meanwhile, which features the instant-classic opening lines, “I get anxious on the weekends/When I feel I’m wasting time/But then I think about Tom Petty/And how he wrote his best songs when he was 39,” also began as a song about Willie (“He’s a good boy on the weekend,” etc.).
“All the songs are secretly about Pat’s dog,” jokes Menne. Goodwin came up with the Petty line later on, as a lark, before recording a rough demo. He wrote the song’s semi-nonsensical chorus — “Step into whatever you want to/And let your spirit bloom” — simply because he loved the way the words sounded. (Afterwards, he sent the chorus to his friend Isaacc Reiger of the band Strange Ranger with the note, “Yo I know you like Third Eye Blind; Do you like this chorus?”)
As the band moves forward with Four of Arrows, they’ll continue figuring out how to break out acoustic guitars without “Free Bird” heckling at future shows. “We’ve definitely had conversations about wanting to break out of the emo world, so to speak,” says Menne, “and gear more towards the, I don’t know what you would call…”
“Adult contemporary?” says Goodwin.
“Indie alternative,” Menne says with faux-seriousness.
“It’s less trying to fit into a world, and more just getting out of a constraint of playing only with loud, all-dude emo bands,” says Hanwright. “It’s more about a world where we can do our own thing and just be ourselves.”
“Step into whatever we want to?” says Menne.
“And let our spirit bloom?” says Goodwin.
“Damn,” says Hanwright.
“Damn,” says LaFlam.
“I feel hella motivated now,” says Goodwin.
Elvis Presley – ‘Mystery Train’
“My first love was Elvis, no question. In our house, we had a French-release compilation album of his songs called ‘Le Roi Du Rock ‘n’ Roll’. As a small kid, I was obsessed with ‘Mystery Train’. The way Elvis held his guitar like a gun and the percussive way he attacked the strings made me fall in love with the guitar. Many years later, I went busking around Europe on my motorbike with a tent and played my guitar in the streets. But it was all because of Elvis and those early Sun [Records] recordings – and ‘Mystery Train’ in particular.”
Blondie – ‘Autoamerican’
“There was an Our Price on Finchley Road, North London that I’d go to with my older brother and sister. That’s where I bought ‘Autoamerican’ in 1981. Blondie – what can you say? Apart from the fact that as a young boy, it was impossible not to be in love with Debbie Harry. I love the variety on this particular record – it goes through different genres. Years later, I saw Blondie play [in 2013] at a private function in New York with Kanye West. Debbie Harry was still magnetic.”
Queen, Wembley Stadium, 1986
“Queen were supported by INXS. It was before they released ‘Kick’ [in 1987]. I only went because it turned out my friend Kieran’s dad was a big-shot in the music industry and he got four tickets. I was around 17, it was a year after they played Live Aid and Queen were phenomenal.”
The Beatles – ‘Eleanor Rigby’
“All through our early teenage years, my younger brother and I were always at the top of the house listening to The Beatles. ‘Eleanor Rigby’ reminds me of the ‘80s and the views out of our house in London: looking at the grey, rain-drizzled skies. I always felt its melancholy, looking out of the window back then as a teenager. Not that I was unhappy, but I definitely responded to that in music.”
Ever meet Macca?
“I have met Paul McCartney and he was a complete gentleman. At a political party, we were watching the American election on TV and he came up to me and said [Lewis does a pitch-perfect Macca impersonation]: ‘Oh, you understand a bit or two about the TV, don’t you?’. And I just realised he’d seen me on TV and I melted. I went to bed grinning. That McCartney knows who I am is incredible. I was completely tongue-tied.”
David Bowie – ‘Heroes’
“I know 173 other people will probably also have picked ‘Heroes’ for this, but from the opening note, it’s just relentlessly brilliant. It’s the most evocative, triumphant, euphoric song – and unbelievably cool. The second album I ever owned was Bowie’s ‘Hunky Dory’ – and he’s remained a touchstone for me.”
The Rolling Stones – ‘Little T&A’
“I listen to the Stones a lot and I can never get ‘Little T&A ‘ out of my head. Keith Richards is quoted as calling the song ‘dumb’ and that it’s just about rock ‘n’ roll energy. It’s a celebration of carnality, I’m aware of that, but that’s the one that stays in my head!”
Jive Bunny And The Mastermixers – ‘Swing the Mood’
“I can’t fucking hear Jive Bunny again! But I don’t mean that in a pejorative way. When I was in my twenties, I would go out on my own dancing to old-school rock ‘n’ roll at rockabilly nights. Then Jive Bunny came out and cut up my favourite songs into snippets and put them into this endless [novelty] medley. And then it was never off the radio, so I’d have to put it into the Room 101 of music.”
Crazy P – ‘There’s a Better Place’
“It’s an ambient rave tune with a fantastic Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory sample. I’m just that age. I left school right into the dance culture of the ‘90s and that will still always get me up on the floor.”
The Weepies – ‘Gotta Have You’
“It reminds me of moving to LA as a family with my late wife Helen [McCrory]. My daughter was one year old and my son was about to be born. We were living in Venice Canals – and I was filming out there. We had a babysitter who was a 23-year-old roller-skating, already-Botoxed sunny Californian girl. We asked her, are you listening to any good music? She gave us two great bands. One is The Shins but the other was a lesser-known band called The Weepies. That song will always get me going.”
Elton John – ‘Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting’
“I can’t say I do karaoke but I will proudly divulge that I was at karaoke in Fulham Broadway once. I went in there with a friend and I got up and sang ‘Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting’ and I won a bottle of champagne for best karaoke of the evening! Very chuffed I was too. If I was back looking for another bottle of champers, I’d pick it again.”
Talk Talk – ‘It’s My Life’
“I was an ‘80s kid and I liked electronic music. I’ve always loved ‘It’s My Life’ and Andy Hollis’ vocals, as well as its slightly bombastic nature. Life’s what you make of it – seems like a good sentiment to have.”
Damian Lewis’ UK tour begins on October 2. His album ‘Sweet Chaos’ is out now via Thin Red Duke
