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Like millions of other people, my first exposure to Nada Surf was through their 1996 hit “Popular.” The song dominated MTV and K-Rock and became one of the most memorable rock songs of the late 1990s. The band’s follow-up album, The Proximity Effect, got caught up in major label red tape, not allowing Nada Surf to fully capitalize on the success of their full-length debut high/low. Thus, Nada Surf undeservingly wound up on a lot of people’s “whatever happened to?” lists.
While that sort of situation would end most bands, Nada Surf thrived in the past decade and a half since leaving Elektra Records. Multiple songs were placed on How I Met Your Mother and One Tree Hill. Other recordings wound up in The O.C., Six Degrees, Heroes, The Riches, Numb3rs, Six Feet Under and John Tucker Must Die. On the touring end, Nada Surf also manages to play bigger venues around the world these days than they did in the so-called “Popular” heyday.
In support of Nada Surf’s Nov. 14 gig at Webster Hall, I spoke to frontman Matthew Caws. Matthew – who grew up in Manhattan and went to school with bassist Daniel Lorca – now spends most of his time in England, but still maintains a home in Brooklyn. In 2013, he put out a well-received album with Juliana Hatfield under the name Minor Alps; Juliana had wonderfully covered Nada Surf’s “Fruit Fly” on self-titled album. Drummer Ira Elliot, who joined the band in 1995, still moonlights in the band Bambi Kino when not busy with Nada Surf responsibilities. Guitarist Doug Gillard, previously of Guided By Voices, joined Matthew and crew in 2012, thus providing a fuller live sound.
One of my favorite people to interview, Matthew was insightful as expected, and his “last words” were both original and inspiring. A new album is on the way from Nada Surf, per our Q&A.
What do you wish more people knew about Nada Surf?
Matthew Caws: Some time ago I would have said that I wished they knew we were from New York and not California. This misconception has been not uncommon with us, and has been due, I think, to the accidentally surfer-dude-ish nature of our name, which has nothing to do with actual surfing, though I admire the sport. It’s more to do with being free in your imagination.
What else do I wish they knew? If someone thought we were all about love songs, I’d wish they knew that we have songs that aren’t that at all. If someone thought we only rocked hard, I’d wish they knew we don’t always. And vice versa, of course.
I wish people knew that the person in our band with dreadlocks doesn’t smoke pot. I have nothing at all against pot, but it’s an assumption that I bet many people make. Why do I wish they knew that wasn’t the case? Maybe for the pleasure of knowing that some things aren’t always as on the nose as one thinks.
You’ve lived in England for the past few years after many years in New York. What do you feel that England offers that the New York area does not?
M: I live in Cambridge and I’m much closer to nature than I am when I’m in Brooklyn, where I still have a tiny apartment, or in Manhattan, where I grew up. That being said, I grew up a few blocks from Central Park, which is magnificent, but — and this is one of its glories — it is supernature, an enhanced reality, designed with great flair, but partially-designed nevertheless. In Cambridge, I am a short walk away from the wild. The weather is milder, but it’s wetter and darker, too.
Do you know when your next album is going to be released?
M: I do, but I can’t tell you. (laughs)
It’s been well over 15 years since Nada Surf parted ways with the major label that released high/low. Arguably, Nada Surf has had more success as an independent band over the past decade and some than it did for a lot of your Elektra tenure. Is there anything you miss about being with a major label?
M: I suppose I miss the big video budgets, but in a way that’s like missing a huge house you used to rent. You may miss the house, but you don’t miss paying that rent. The feeling you have during the process of being signed to a major label is quite nice, because there is such a range of possibility in the air. The idea that you can reach kids all over the country, from main streets to back streets, is quite exciting. But that was also a function of the time. “Our kind” of music — which is a cheap thing to say without at least describing it a little bit, so by “our kind” I mean relatively polished “alternative” — was in vogue on commercial radio and MTV was an enormous part of how people learned about new bands. From where we stand now, there isn’t anything I miss about being on a major label. We spent an enormous amount of money recording our second album, The Proximity Effect — and a lot per day on our debut, but it was recorded very quickly so the budget was very reasonable in the end — and it was an amazing experience during which we tried so many things and learned so much, but we certainly don’t need to spend nearly that making a record ever again. In terms of exposure, I’m not sure a major label, unless they’re promoting you at a truly “pop” level, could do much for you that a healthy independent label couldn’t do.
A lot of artists look back on the 1990s as if they were the glory days of being in a band. Do you think that there are any misconceptions about all of that?
M: I think a powerful misconception about that time is that an expensive video and some tour support and radio promotion would enable you to automatically “make it.” But because there were so few outlets for music videos and relatively few places to hear new music other than on the radio, if your song wasn’t added to a video or radio playlist, you might have zero exposure and vanish. No one would know to come to the shows, you’d run up a big bill fast, which would mean that you wouldn’t see any money from the records you did manage to sell. Pretty grim. Now of course without any label at all, you can stay in touch with your fans, develop a relationship with them as a community, make sure they know if you’re coming to their town and make your music available to whoever wants to listen. In so many ways, it’s a much healthier time.
You, Daniel and Ira have stayed together as a band for 20 or so years. Is there a secret to keeping a band like yours together?
M: I think two factors have kept us together. The first is a deep friendship and a desire to get along, i.e. a willingness to put some effort into keeping communication open, musically and interpersonally, and a natural desire to stay supportive and respectful of one another.
The other factor is our audience. We have never played a show where we didn’t get something back, where we didn’t have a tangible feeling that we made at least a few people feel good. The same thing goes for our albums. They might not sell by the boatloads, but we always feel appreciated. That keeps the experience joyful and, I’m not sure how else to put this, useful-feeling. If there’s effort involved, and goodness knows we do some traveling that can be mentally and physically-taxing, it always feels worthwhile.
Is there anything that Nada Surf hasn’t yet accomplished but you still hope to?
M: Playing the Beacon Theater in New York — I saw so many childhood shows there — playing in Central Park, playing in Iceland, Eastern Europe, Asia…I can’t say there’s much else and those things I listed aren’t burning ambitions. We’ve already done much more than I ever imagined, but of course having songs penetrate even more deeply into the various cultures we live in is a constant and never-ending desire.
As someone who’s written for a lot of magazines, have you ever considered writing a memoir?
M: I have considered it more and more lately. I’m blessed to have friends who seem to be inexhaustible fonts of stories. Out of modesty, I long ago assumed I didn’t have that many, but after all these years I really do. There are also many interesting angles to my family, background and formative experience. I’d like to write the kind of memoir where you’re not tempted to skip over family history. If I don’t manage that, I’ll have to leave those parts out.
When you’re not busy with your career, how do you like to spend your free time?
M: I’m a single dad and am very involved in the life of my son, so juggling that and a career takes up, in a wonderful albeit logistically tricky way, most of my free time. Aside from that, I like to wander around wherever I am. On tours where we’re lucky enough to be in a tour bus, I’ve often packed a folding bicycle into the luggage bay so that I can make a move when I get up in the morning.
Do you have a favorite album of 2015?
M: So far, both new Beach House albums and Telekinesis’ Ad Infinitum, but I’m sure there will be many more to come. I’ve been so focused on our new album that having finally delivered it, I feel like I’m a submarine coming to the surface, and am eager to absorb new music, whether it’s current or old.
Finally, Matthew, any last words for the kids?
M: If you have anxieties that sometimes haunt you or make you uncomfortable, or if there are relationships in your life that are stressful, give meditation a try. I feel, at least in my experience, that it’s a recommendation that becomes more regular later in life, but it would have done me such a load of extra good if I’d started earlier. I can’t say I know much about it, and don’t practice it as regularly as I’d like, but I do find it very helpful and I’d like to share what I know.
Carve out 22 minutes, maybe as soon as you get up, set a timer, put your phone in airplane mode if that’s the timer you’re using so that that there are no alerts to distract you, sit in a chair or on a cushion on the floor — either is fine — gently focus your eyes on a point a few feet in front of you. Because we can’t help but have attention, our minds make an endless supply, it’s good to choose somewhere to put that attention. Something as simple as your breath or the sounds outside your window, or a long steady sound that you’re imagining; “om” is usual go-to here). The goal is not to think.
Well, this is incredibly hard. I find it impossible. The first few periods that I tried meditation I gave up after a few tries because I found it too difficult, I felt like I couldn’t do it. But here’s the corner that I turned recently: not being able to do it is the point. By failing, you’re doing just what you need to do. Yhe thing is that every time you find yourself thinking about X, Y or Z, from the mundane to the conceptual to the unpleasant, and you try to take your attention off that thing, you’re working a muscle that doesn’t get used nearly enough, the muscle that quiets your thoughts. Here is the first benefit that I really noticed. It’s only happened once so far, but I’m confident it will happen again, now that I’ve felt it. The other night, as I was trying to fall asleep, I was thinking of something stressful and I was feeling myself become agitated and awake, heading in the wrong direction. Lo and behold, I felt my attention come off that stressful thing. Not totally, but enough to make a difference and let me fall asleep. Something in me realized that those stressful thoughts weren’t helping. I was in bed to rest, and i needed to quiet my thoughts.
If this is something that you think might help you, try it. I’m still new to it myself, but I’m pretty sure it works.
Take care and see you down the road somewhere!
-by Darren Paltrowitz