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Music

Amen Dunes Is Not Psych Music, No Matter How Much You Want It to Be

Stream the band's latest single "I Can't Dig It" and read our extensive interview with Damon McMahon.

Credit: Tuomas Korpijakko

Damon McMahon doesn't want to tell me his age. "I'm 62," he jokes. "I started doing this a long time ago. A really, really long time ago."

The man behind Brooklyn's Amen Dunes is actually 33, but it makes sense he'd consider himself 62. His music is timeless, a rare colleciton of traditional singersongwriter-driven rock mixed with progressive overdubbing, with lyrics that focus on the Big Questions: frustrations and complications and challenges of life. You konw. Those things we might consider cliche, but those same things we all feel every day.

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His latest record Love (out May 13 via Sacred Bones) echoes these themes, but the project's fifth album is the group's most complete yet. Below, Noisey is happy to premiere their latest single "I Can't Dig It," which features Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Efrim Menuck and Bon Iver's Colin Stetson, and it's aggressive and swirling, indicative of the band and McMahon's vision for Love. "This is the best thing I've ever done, ever," he tells me confidently recently over the phone. "I'm really proud of it."

How does it feel to make the statement that this is the best thing you've ever done?
It’s great, man. This record was one of the less thought-out of the records, and I think that makes it more of a pure pulse kind of thing. And it was a fuckload of work. I recorded this record in four different studios; I mixed it in two different studios—in Montreal and in Brooklyn. That took a whole year. It was effortless, in a weird way, but it was extremely focused, too.

This is the most time you’ve spent on a record. How is that reflected?
It all works, you know what I mean? Not only are there no dud songs, but there are no dud overdubs. Nothing is a dud. I’m really meticulous, always, even when there’s improve stuff. But on this record, I was even more. I just tried to make it work at all times, and I’m happy about that. It feels like my true self was delivered, and that’s a good feeling.

Since your previous records were recorded at a faster rate, do you feel there was anything lost with taking your time?
That’s a good point, but I don’t think so because I’m older now and better at what I do. With earlier stuff, when recording, I’d have to properly situate myself mentally, and inspiration would come and I’d record a song in one take, and I’d record an album in three weeks. And now, I’ve been able to harness that inspiration and maintain it, you know? I don’t run out of breath in the way that I used to.

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How do you feel recording in Montreal is reflected in this record, and moreover, what do you feel additional musicians add?
I think they all add power to it. I want to invite people to add beauty and strength to the record. This record is just all about that. And in Montreal, we had a difficult process, actually.

What happened?
We tried to record the whole record there in February of 2013 in the middle of this snowstorm. We went up there with the intention of living there for just under a month, and we only lasted six days. The dudes in Amen Dunes are very intense personalities. And so there were a lot of strong personalities in one room. And so, it was volatile. We had a meeting on the second day and we were like, “Dude, should we just cancel this whole session?” There was some hot-cold energy for those six days. I’m surprised we even lasted that long. But I think that comes out in some of the tracks. Sometimes when you’re really uncomfortable or in a lot of pain, or there’s a lot of tension or anger or lust or whatever, that comes out nicely in music.

How’d you get past that moment?
Amen Dunes has always been about a way of overcoming suffering. That’s a heavy thing to say, but it’s true. All of the songs come from life, personal experiences, and we’re not that serious people when we’re not playing music, but when we play music, we’re very serious. And this record echoes that similar ethos of the band. Those six days were brutal, but we’re not in a band to get laid. I don’t do music to party. I don’t do music for internet eyeballs. I’m happy and grateful for that, but when were struggling, we knew we had a higher cause and purpose with this record.

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This is your fifth record under Amen Dunes, so in your career, is there anything you feel misunderstood about?
Definitely, man. I hate when people call my music psych. I hate that word. It’s a very convenient word to fall back on—like, I only have one minute to write about this on the internet so I’m going to call it “psych” because it’s searchable. Of course, I love psych music. Of course, I love acid. [Laughs.] But if someone listened to the record with some intention, they would realize that’s a small component. A lot of the artists I’ve admired were so much more than a single label. I mean, what the fuck is psych? It’s like that band July from the ‘60s or whatever. I don’t make psych music. I hate that. And that’s my rant about being misunderstood. [Laughs.]

Riffing off what you said about the internet, you’ve come to prominence in the blog world, where people consume music so rapidly. What is it like being an artist in this environment?
My first band in New York was in 2001, so I existed for a little bit pre-internet. But I will say that I’m not a fan of the way music is consumed via the internet, but I am a fan of the way music is introduced via the internet. As an introduction. As an initial exposure. I think it’s amazing that you can reach like 30,000 people on a SoundCloud link. If you’re a 15-year-old in Idaho, and you’ve never heard Japanese noise bands, you can learn about it over night. I think that’s beautiful. I don’t think it’s cool to ignore the era you’re in—that’s not a good move—but I will say that a big bummer is that there’s a lack of respect for music because of all this shit.

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Like what?
I’m not even talking about the obvious, like money. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m talking about the respect for the complexity of what you’re hearing. There’s so much time you need to spend with music before you really understand music. And if you don’t fully spend time with it and don’t fully understand it, the interpretation of the music you’re putting out in the world—whether you’re a kid on a forum or Twitter or you’re a music writer—is diluted. So there’s a feedback loop of diluted information about bands.

Is there a way in your eyes that can be changed or adjusted?
Yeah. The way you do it is as a musician, you have respect for your own shit. Don’t just burn out a new record because you want Pitchfork to like you, and you’re worried the trend is changing to something new next month, and you’ve got to get a new record out to stay relevant. If musicians spend their time and take their shit seriously—do their research, are sincere to their core. That’s a way to make things better.

That’s interesting. Do you think musicians cater to trends, or are writers and journalists forcing musicians to cater to trends?
It’s a vicious cycle, but the responsibility is in the hands of the musician. It’s not the writer’s fault. They’re doing a job. You’re reflecting what’s out in the world. If the musician’s are giving you superficial schlock, then that’s what you’ve got to deal with. I don’t know. I think you can care and still survive these days. People are just scared to.

At the same time, you’ve got to pay rent. Do you ever feel a certain amount of fear or pressure to do that stuff because you have to live?
Absolutely. And it’s painful, but you’ve just got pay your dues. If you’re a sincere musician in 2014, you have a couple strikes against you. If you don’t compromise and stay pure, it makes people uncomfortable these days. The goal, the hope, is that one day you will get yours. Meaning you can live by doing what you do, and not have a million day jobs. It’s a choice. And I’d rather have the integrity of knowing that I am doing something true than reaping the benefits of being insincere just to ride a trend wave.

Eric Sundermann surfs on trend waves. He's on Twitter@ericsundy