Minneapolis-based Psych and Dream Pop artist Rupert Angeleyes released his third album Pillow Talk, on April 20th and played a special release show with his live band. The songs on the new album have a strongly atmospheric quality and the layering of instrumentation was all devised by Rupert. Thematically, the songs loosely follow ideas of different kinds of relationships and their possible outcomes, hence “pillow talk.” A veteran of several bands such as Sleeping in the Aviary, Joey Joey Michaels, and Hot Freaks via his time spent in LA, Rupert brings all that musical knowledge to bear on his solo compositions and live performances.
Working with local musicians for live performances of his own, Rupert also lends a hand in other bands who need performers, creating a local community of like-minded artists. I spoke with Rupert about his enthusiasm for costumes that suit particular performances, what it’s like working on songs that have a long lifespan, the unusual kindness he’s often witnessed among music fans willing to house traveling musicians while on tour, and the challenging place of social media in a creative life.
Hannah Means-Shannon: I heard that you will have a show on release day. What are your plans?
Rupert Angeleyes: I am planning costumes. In the past, I’ve done red and black, I’ve done everyone wearing navy jumpsuits with sewn-on neon fringe. I’ve done straight-up glitter and sequins stuff. I feel like every time somebody finds something sequined at a thrift store, they say, “Kyle, you will like this.” So I have a lot of sequined stuff. I used to live in Los Angeles and I’d go to the fashion district and buy different rolls of cloth. I can’t sew to save my life, but I had this beautiful cloak-like thing that I wore until all the stitches wore out because I was dancing too much. I’m trying to figure out what the theme or the attire will be for the album release. It’s a six-piece band, so it’s a lot of sewing and outfits! [Laughs]
Do you have someone who can help you make the outfits?
I’m a mama’s boy and my mom helped me make the last outfits for the tour we were on. She has a sewing machine and she’s way better than I am, but she’s not in town right now. I could just do all black. But that’s so boring…I want pizzazz. I don’t want things to be hokey because in the music and in the Rupert Angeleyes persona, I’m always flirting with the slapstick and the schticky.
The only thing I’ve heard about sequins is that it can do of damage to the backs of guitars.
There’s also buckle rash on the back of all my guitars because I always wear a big belt buckle. They are all chewed up. [Laughs]
What colors do you feel most comfortable performing in?
Teal. Pink and teal are kind of the colors of the album itself. They are spring-esque. I have a skin ailment called rosacea so I have to stay away from red colors.
I’ve seen the video for “In the Light” and between that and album artwork, I can see some aesthetics taking shape. Does the video connect with the aesthetics of the album for you?
The music video was directed and thought out by my friend Jimmy Whispers, and it was his interpretation of the song, which has now become part of the song. I think a beautiful thing about creativity. You create one idea, then another person goes off and makes it something else, and it morphs. In that sense, I was not looking for a representation of “In The Light” via the music video. It is more an interpretation, Jimmy Whispers’ idea of the song. At this point, the music video is the song as well.
You get different identities for songs that way for sure. The video is not the whole identity of that song, since someone who comes and hears you play it will get a different identity. It does become a separate, almost autonomous identity, once a song gets associated with a video, I think.
Exactly, and that’s a really important part of the creative process for me. Something is born. Something is made and created. At a certain point, it doesn’t even belong to you anymore. “In the Light” is a song that’s eight years old. If it was a child, it would be in middle school! I can kind of remember how it was born and started, but it’s taken on many changes and chapters.
That song is just an entity that I keep polishing away at. I wish I had some specific grandiose story to tell, “The song cracked through the either and down it struck upon me! “In the Light” by Rupert Angeleyes! I woke up the next morning in a fever dream, and somehow the vinyl record was sitting on my desk!”
I think that’s something of the narrative that some people would like to go with their music, or that labels would like to go with the music. It makes for an easy story.
Yes, print that new version! I think that’s what people want.
I don’t know if they want that. Maybe sometimes. But I think that for people who want to make music, whether it’s a hobby or something more serious, it’s helpful for them to hear that it’s not easy all the time. It might encourage people who have been working on songs for years to keep going. I was wondering if the long life of “In The Light” means that you’ve played it a lot.
Yes. The last time that I toured with it was before the pandemic. I did a couple of shows last year under the Rupert Angeleyes name, but it’s been a while. I used to do shows twice a week for audiences 18-30. Then the pandemic happened. Not playing as much is bizarre.
Certainly a lot of people have had that experience. And many have reconsidered touring in terms of its expense and energy toll. Is it something that you feel you’d like to get back to?
I love touring. I love playing live. I love going town to town and meeting people. I love it when you don’t have a place to stay and someone says, “You can stay at my place.” And then you’re just on their floor noticing their shit-load of bowling trophies. Then you find out they just like collecting them,and you say, “Tell me more.” You meet people you wouldn’t ordinarily talk to and you see more of the country. I’ve been to every state except Alaska.
That’s amazing! That happened purely through playing?
Yes, I think I’ve played in every major city in 48 states.
Is this because you’ve been in several bands? Did you tour with them?
Yes. I wish I was patient enough to make those kinds of bookings. I used to be in this band called Sleeping in the Aviary and we toured for six months straight. We put our stuff in storage lockers and didn’t have a place to live, and the lead person was actively booking shows while we played. I miss that.
I have heard of people doing that more in Europe, just keeping it rolling as long as possible. One thing leads to the next. It’s quite a leap of faith.
It’s wonderful. When there are only a couple of people, the overhead is low and you can play for room and board, really. It’s enriching.
That experience, for you, has clearly influenced your worldview. It’s kind of heart-warming that random strangers would take in other random strangers on behalf of music. That says nice things about humanity that I otherwise might be pessimistic about.
What’s the type of person who would go to a show, see a bunch of scraggly twenty-somethings and say, “Stay at my house! I’ll make you a pizza!” That’s almost more enriching than the music itself. It’s all kind of intertwined.
Since you played so many instruments on this album, how did the recording progress? When you have that much creative control, how do you reach an end-point?
I think about that one all the time. I know it’s done when I can’t even stand it anymore. When I can’t even pick up an instrument and play another note. When I feel that, I throw up my hands, and say, “Fuck it! It’s done! I can’t wait to make the next thing!”
That’s the moment when you’re ready to let go, finally.
I know. The other side of that coin is that you can give up too easily. Sometimes you have to keep going. I get kind of stuck.
Do you take a break and come back?
Rupert: I take like a day and then do it again. Sometimes putting time into things doesn’t mean that it’s going to make it better. You can dig a hole with a shovel or a spoon. Maybe you were using the wrong tool the whole time!
I did see a quote from you saying that you like it when a project comes out because then you can do the next thing. Are you going to be relieved once this album is out and you can let your mind go elsewhere?
Yes, it will be a strange combination of feelings. For one, it will be a great relief that this is out in the world and I’ve accomplished something. But that will be followed by, “Oh my gosh, I can do whatever I want for my next album project. But what’s the next project going to be like?” Then, thirdly, it’ll be like looking at a blank canvas, thinking, “Holy moly, what is the next step I take now? This is terrifying!” It’s a great feeling, all those things combined: Fear, satisfaction, and inspiration, all together.
More outfits! You can think up more outfits for future projects!
I know, I have to figure that out. But I don’t want to repeat myself. There’s got to be something I have not tried.
What is your approach to music in relation to social media and online? Do you feel the need to do that to keep people aware of your music and what you’re doing? Is that part of your life?
Hell, no. And the sliver of it that is, I wish that it was not. I know that to be a successful musician, I have to. I don’t have that many interesting things to say, and if I did, I would not want to broadcast them out into the world all the time. I’m a quiet person, even though I seem extraverted. I keep to myself, and yet I’m a goofy motherfucker. I do that for my close friends. I share with them, I don’t just shotgun-blast all of this stuff on the internet. If I wake up and write a song called “Chimichanga Fever”, I send it to my partner. Am I going to send it to anyone else at this stage? Nooooo. I think you can end up spending more time on social media than on the art itself.
