“One Red Thread”
from the album 3 Rounds and a Sound
2008
iTunes
Blind Pilot plays with opener Local Natives at the High Noon Saloon in Madison tonight, Tuesday, June 16 at 7 PM. Ticket information is available here. Highly recommended.
Portland folk-pop band Blind Pilot isn’t interested in the traditional rock ‘n’ roll life of tour buses and groupies. Its members would rather schlep their gear behind their bicycles and pedal from gig to gig, like they did last year on a tour down the length of the West Coast on Highway 1.
Problem is, the band is getting too popular for bicycle tours. Last year, its debut album, 3 Rounds and a Sound, garnered critical praise for its sophisticated but earthy Americana sound. This spring, Blind Pilot opened for Counting Crows in the U.K. and Ireland, and this summer, it’s tagging along for a few dates with fellow Portlanders the Decemberists, including their recent show in Milwaukee.
The band has likewise grown. Originally just Israel Nebeker (guitar, vocals) and Ryan Dubrowski (drums), the current six-piece ensemble plays upright bass, banjo, vibraphone, keys, trumpet and other instruments as it strikes its fancy.
Before Blind Pilot plays an (early) gig at the High Noon tonight, Nebeker filled 77 Square in on his songwriting process and why he likes Madison.
Why did you and Ryan decide to expand the band?
When we recorded 3 Rounds and a Sound, we went in with the intent of just making a really simple, clean, straightforward record. Just drums, vocals, guitar. The more we listened to the songs, the more that we heard other instruments and decided to try out new things. The first person we brought in was (multi-instrumentalist) Kati (Claborn). She brought in a mountain dulcimer. I had always been wanting a wispy string instrument sound. I didn’t even know what a mountain dulcimer was when she started playing. It was amazing that it worked so well. Some things just seemed to lock in.
What’s the story behind the character Jojo in the song “The Story I Heard”?
I was waiting at a bus stop in Portland, and a guy came up to me and was asking for spare change. I couldn’t help him, but I ended up talking with him for a long while. His name was Jojo. He’s from Jamaica. He was obviously in a rough spot in his life but shined as a person, and had something about him that was really intriguing and admirable. It was a really fun experience. By the end, he had me singing Bobby McFerrin with him at the top of our lungs in this Portland bus stop. That’s where the song started. It got me thinking about the way that I judge people and the way that we all are judged.
I finished it when Ryan and I moved out to Astoria (Ore.) from Portland. We were living in a cannery building out there. I remember walking on the tracks, and most of the lines of the chorus came during that walk.
You were walking on train tracks while you composed the song?
Yeah. The tracks went all along the Columbia River. I would just pick a rail and walk on the rail. Something about the balancing took my mind off the worries enough to let words come. I walked for miles like that.
What have your experiences been like in Madison?
Our last show in Madison was at the Orpheum. It was, like, a tragedy of a sound system. There was a 10-minute silence where they couldn’t get the guitar turned back on. We just had to sit there and plead with the audience not to leave or get mad. The crowd was awesome, and everybody we met in Madison was so cool. It was a really nice city. I didn’t know anything about it, and it reminded me a lot of the college town where Ryan and I went to school — in Eugene, Ore. But sort of a better, cleaner Eugene.