Interviews

Phoenix

Phoenix


by Ryan Dombal

June 22, 2009

When Phoenix frontman Thomas Mars' English fails him, he does that French thing, like, "How do you say...?" It's endearing. But, admittedly, this happened pretty rarely during our chat in a swanky Lower East Side hotel in downtown Manhattan last month. Mars has a good grasp of the English language, even if his big ideas don't always totally translate on the page. The slight disconnect adds mystique. And he's no slouch when it comes to making bulletproof pop-rock, either, as shown by his band Phoenix's summertime salvo of a fourth LP, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.

Looking a bit tan and tired, Mars was gracious and sincere in person. No aloof nonsense here as he talked about that YouTube Brat Pack video, the possibilities of Apple-ad ubiquity, and Radiohead's possibly-too-cryptic musings.

Pitchfork: Congrats on playing "Saturday Night Live". Did they try to get you guys in any comedy skits?

Thomas Mars: Oh no, they didn't ask. They know you can't do that with French guys. You guys have the talent-- for us, it seems like any American can act. The basics of acting are really better in America than in Europe. Just the basic "fake laugh" is impossible to get in France.

Pitchfork: It feels like people are really ready to love Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. Do you feel like people are responding to this record more than anything else you've done?

TM: Yeah, it's very specific. With our three first albums we got all a bunch of people that like one or the other, and now they're all agreeing on this one, which is amazing. I don't know if it's because of [producer] Phillippe Zdar or if has to do with the idea that we were tired of things that were a little too respectful and elegant. It's like how in perfume there's one element that's really repelling-- we wanted to make that stronger. Also, we were freer because there were no record companies involved. For the first time, we controlled the way we wanted fans to discover the music. So as soon as the record was done we gave the song "1901" away for free. We got such a great response and knew right away that something was happening.

To me, Alphabetical is very clinical-- I regret that we didn't put a mention for people to play it really loud because it's so dry so you need to play it loud so it breathes and has a chance. With It's Never Been Like That, we felt like we built a fireworks display and someone started it during daytime.

Pitchfork: Given the buildup for this album, I was surprised how understated the "Lisztomania" video is considering how the song is so poppy. What was the idea behind filming it in Bayreuth at historic musical locales like the Franz Liszt Museum?

TM: We met this guy Antoine Amadeus Wagner who is related to Franz Liszt and Wagner. He just said, "I have they key to Wagner's house and Franz Liszt's museum, do you want to go there?" So we couldn't say no; we were trapped into it. But we played on Franz Liszt's piano, which was amazing. And we went to Wagner's auditorium and I realized how high-tech it was-- it was like the Skywalker Ranch of its time.

We've always liked classical music, but it was always really hard to translate it in our music without it sounding pompous. So the idea was to go to Bayreuth and play something that's not Wagner. It's an act of imbalance, like Jeff Koons' exhibition in Versailles.

There was also this great Brat Pack video that a fan did on YouTube. I was a big fan of those movies. And in France, anyone can use your music on like a TV show or whatever-- they don't need to ask permission. So we are used to letting it go. It's almost like a child when it has it's own life. For us, there's a beauty about it because it's out of control; it's a little chaotic, which is nice.

Pitchfork: It's funny you mention that, because I was thinking how your songs could be in a billion commercials. Specifically, they seem perfect for iPod ads, which tend to go with really pop-oriented, upbeat music. Would you want to do an ad like that?

TM: I think I would do it because I like Apple [laughs]. That's the most honest answer I can give you. It's not a bad vehicle for our music to be heard. What we wouldn't do is something that limits the music so when you hear it you think of a commercial. In France, we grew up with this-- a lot of songs were ruined by their associations with commercials. But so far no Apple commercial has ruined a song for me.

Pitchfork: I think a lot of people think of the iPod commercial when they hear Coldplay's "Viva la Vida".

TM: Maybe if I had been living in the U.S. I would think the same thing. It depends on how much it's on TV, I guess. It's a hard decision. Maybe I would say yes if it wasn't a single and if it didn't limit the band to one song. I think I wouldn't do it for "Lisztomania" because it would be obvious, but if it was something else I feel like it would give the song extra life.

Pitchfork: Have you denied any requests from companies?

TM: Yes-- it's a luxury to say no. I won't name the companies, but it's part of the game. And the more you say no the more people ask.

Pitchfork: Where's the weirdest place you've heard one of your songs playing in France?

TM: There's this race car TV show called "Turbo", and the guy that makes it must be a real Phoenix fan because there's always one of our songs on there. We grew up with this kind of thing so we are not traumatized by it.

Pitchfork: Franz Liszt is sometimes compared to contemporary pop stars. What part of his story appealed to you?

TM: With "Lisztomania", there was this romantic idea that appealed to us-- it's almost like an Austrian way to see things, like it belongs to a museum or something. There was this book, Mozart in the Jungle-- I think that's where the album title comes from. It's about the Philharmonic Orchestra in New York in the 80s and I had a lot of trouble reading it because it's not translated in French. It's very hard for me to read in English. So my impression of the book might be totally wrong, but it described this very decadent, swigging, druggy philharmonic orchestra in the 80s. So it's a mixture of the classical and the decadent.

Pitchfork: I read that some of the songs on the new record took three years to complete. Obviously, you're not working on the same song everyday for three years ...

TM: Yes, we are.

Pitchfork: Really?

TM: [laughs] It's a nightmare. "Love Like a Sunset" took us two years to complete. It had endless possibilities and at the same time it didn't exist. We couldn't find a resolution. On the road from Versailles to Paris there's these really cool 70s tunnels that are very rhythmical because the road and lights have a rhythm. We'd listen to Steve Reich in the car and we wanted to recreate this experience. And so we started really using the same patterns with our instruments, and it was just a nightmare because it's really hard to do. I remember it was an Apple commercial-- not to name Apple again-- but this kid has a square and he has to fit it in the round hole and it doesn't fit and then he just takes a hammer and destroys the thing and is super satisfied. It was like this, it wouldn't fit forever-- it was just really exhausting.

Pitchfork: Ironically, that's the song with very little singing. You'd think it would be easier.

TM: Well, when we first started it there were vocals at the beginning but they didn't make it. We like the idea that you forget about the voice and when it comes you're surprised that it's there.

Pitchfork: When you just listen to the record it sounds very positive and uplifting-- but then you read the lyrics, which are surprisingly depressing.

TM: We always look for some things that glue together but shouldn't-- like something sad and a major chord. At the same time we never really think in terms of happy and sad because to me it's really the same. It just depends on your mood. I almost didn't want to put the lyrics in the booklet because when people misinterpret a line it's even better sometimes. But to see a crowd sing is so enjoyable, so we changed our opinion. In an ideal world people would know the words just for the show and then forget them right after.

Pitchfork: I also noticed your lyrics have gotten more cryptic over the course of the past 10 years. Is that you becoming older or wanting to hide more?

TM: Probably hiding more, or just enjoying music as a magic trick. One of my favorite French singers, Alain Bashung, was the expert at creating his own universe; no one knows what he's talking about, even he doesn't know because it's so poetic. It's almost like Dylan at his craziest. It's like automatic writing, but in a song. We're fascinated with the idea of every word fitting perfectly with every chord so it creates a new standard of beauty.

Pitchfork: What do you think about bands like Radiohead that are pretty random lyrically?

TM: It's almost like Radiohead are using those word magnets. That's my worst fear-- the magnet thing.

Pitchfork: It seems to be working for those guys, though.

TM: Yeah, but we fought so much to sing in English in France. For us, it would be like being misunderstood. Even if it's really harmonic, the way we put things together is very different.

Pitchfork: With somebody like Björk, her stuff is even better because you're not sure how aware she is of the weird stuff she's doing with the English language. But you're saying you're more in control of what you're saying in English.

TM: I think so, without being pompous. I think Björk is different; she's playing on the fact she knows she's eccentric and she accepts the fact.

Pitchfork: What did you think of the Daft Punk live pyramid show?

TM: It was like the Fall of the Roman Empire. I love it for its threats-- at the beginning of the show, people are really scared that there are aliens on earth.

Pitchfork: You really think so?

TM: Well, in Japan they were.


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