Oceanography’s debut LP Collier Canyon is an expansive, shimmering collection of lyric-driven indie rock that draws touchstones from the auditory life of music obsessive. Named after a winding road in the hills outside of the northern California suburb where primary member Brian Kelly grew up, Collier Canyon is both immediately familiar and imminently rewarding. Plaintive and driving, the record will resonate deeply with anyone that cut their sonic teeth making mixtapes on the bedroom floor.
Kelly got his start when he swiped a guitar from his sister as a pre-teen. He played guitar in a few college bar bands, doing well enough to land opening slots for the likes of Vinyl, Karl Denson, and Bernie Worrell on runs up the coast. A post-collegiate relocation to New York lead to a melodic revelation at the altars of Damien Jurado, The Rapture, Dismemberment Plan, Destroyer, and their ilk. Kelly soon after formed a band with friends and started playing shows at vaunted haunts Piano’s and Pete’s Candy Store.
Then a family illness drew him back west. He started performing as Oceanography and recorded an EP titled EP1 with Pete Parada (Offspring) on drums. Then he got a gig at a local alt weekly and started dating a co-worker, who happened to also be a pretty solid drummer. Together they recorded and released a second EP, Parachutes of Plenty.
Then everything started falling apart, over and over again. Which, oddly, is how Collier Canyon came together. “I had planned on moving to LA, but then everything took a turn for the worst,” Kelly says. “First, I was laid off from my job. Then me and my girlfriend (and bandmate) broke up. So instead, in my mid-30s, I moved back in with my mom.”
This unplanned rehousing had the benefit of allowing Kelly time to work on his record, but there was an issue. He had to find a drummer. This proved to be difficult. “In the process I endured many empty promises, a death threat, and an unexpected bleeding head wound that was dressed on a stranger’s couch in Berkeley,” says Kelly. In an effort to keep the project moving, Kelly recorded the bulk of the record to a click track while searching for a modest, non-homicidal bandmate.
On a scouting trip to Los Angeles, he met Brock Bowers, and the connection was immediate. They rehearsed for a week and then headed to Origami Lounge in Chico, CA to track drums. Kelly recruited Jason Quever (Papercuts) to mix the record. Yet, Kelly couldn’t listen with fresh ears. “Jason kept telling me, ‘this sounds great.’ But I could only reference my rough mixes,” says Kelly. “At one point he turned to me and said, ‘you have demo-itus. It’s a thing, and you have it.’ So, I took the mixes and sat on them.”
In the meantime, Kelly had started playing shows with drummer (and bloody-couch haver) Peter Labberton. Kelly relayed his struggles with self-doubt, and Labberton asked to give mixing a go. So, he did – and it sounded great. Demo-itus still rears its questioning head on occasion… “To this day there are some songs Jason mixed that I really love,” relates Kelly, “but I bled on Peter’s couch, and sometimes you just need to call it a day.”
Glide is proud to premiere the video for “Rainbow Records” from Oceanography, a nostalgic flashback to the days of self-engineered mixtapes and taping songs off the radio. The video provides a colorful retrospective of the cassette brands, colorful marker labeling, and musical innocence of the ’80s and early ’90s, atop Oceanography’s supercharged indie rock. Kelly has nailed the forgotten art of anthemic guitar rock with a quirky underbelly, serving the non-status quo.
“While I was working the album I found an old mix tape in my mom’s garage. It was one of those Maxell tapes with the gold metal plates on both sides… some folks might remember them from that commercial with the guy getting blown away by his stereo while sipping chardonnay in his Le Corbusier leather chair… very 80’s,” explains Kelly about the video. “Anyway, I popped it in the tape deck expecting to hear Joshua Tree (which was written on the label) and I hear the DJ intro “Live 105 KITS San Francisco, this is Steve Masters” cross fading into How Soon is Now by The Smiths and a wave of nostalgia came rushing over me… sitting on the floor in my older sister’s room taping songs off the radio… trying to time it just right with the play and record buttons. Then I remembered the record store in my hometown. My older sisters used to take me there when I was about three feet tall and later I’d sneak over there while my mom shopped for art supplies next door. The store is long gone, but the sounds of the creaky floor and the smell of all those records and tapes came rushing back.”
Photo by Lance Yamamoto
Links:
https://www.oceanographymusic.com/
