iDKHOW: "For my whole life, I've been told everything I wanted was impossible, but here we are"

Inspired by the sort of otherworldly musicians that stole his teenage heart, Dallon Weekes' biggest hope for iDKHOW was to introduce the likes of Marc B...

Inspired by the sort of otherworldly musicians that stole his teenage heart, Dallon Weekes' biggest hope for iDKHOW was to introduce the likes of Marc Bolan, David Bowie and The Cure to a new generation. "If we can't be your favourite thing, then maybe they can be," he says, Zooming from his home studio. A man unafraid to wear his influences on his sleeve, he believes music is best when it's a communal activity. "I enjoy my favourite things a lot more when I'm able to share them with people. That's what this band is for me."

But their debut album 'Razzmatazz' is much more impactful than opening a door to the greats of old. Forget nostalgia, this is a record about adversity, childhood dreams and refusing to take no for an answer. Full of metaphors for being isolated, "this record is about the frustration and anger that can come with not being able to connect with other people," he explains.

Add in a healthy dollop of escapism, some joyful bombast, and 'Razzmatazz' is the perfect album for a pandemic. "I wish I could say that I had written this thing with quarantine in mind, but who could have known what was coming?"

Dallon certainly didn't - and it's not the first time, either. iDKHOW's debut album was originally set to be recorded years ago, but after a substantial amount of hype from early singles' Modern Day Cain', 'Do It All The Time' and 'Choke', the band hit the road to try to keep up with demand. The record was only finished, via email, this year.

"It's not the best time to be releasing music, but waiting any longer than we have done would have actually driven me insane. It's good that we're here, regardless of the state of the world right now," says Dallon. iDKHOW fans have been waiting a long time, but he's been waiting even longer.

When he was five years old, Dallon wanted to play the guitar. He didn't know what a guitar was, but he'd seen one in the window of a pawn shop and fallen in love. A decade later, he took some of the money he had saved up, went to the same pawn shop, and bought one. "My family was so disappointed in me that I chose to spend this money on a complete waste of time."

Like many working-class kids, Dallon spent his whole life being told "to quit daydreaming and to get your head out of the clouds." Time and time again, he was advised to go to college, get a job, earn his living. "But there was never a plan b. For me, it was always music."

He "grew up very poor, very blue-collar," he explains, in Utah and was only able to live out his musician dreams at evenings and weekends via his now-defunct indie-rock outfit The Brobecks. However when Ryan Ross and Jon Walker left Panic! At The Disco in 2009, after the release of their divisive second album' Pretty. Odd.', Dallon was asked to join the band on tour. A few months later, he became a full-time member, helping out with the cover art for 2011's 'Vices & Virtues' and co-writing a majority of 2013's 'Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!'.

"I was just dropped into this world of celebrity, money and fame because Panic! were one of the biggest bands in the world. I wasn't part of their world, but I was orbiting it," says Dallon, who retells those years as a satellite on 'Razzmatazz.

"For years, any creative output I had was directed towards Panic! but it had to be filtered through a lens that included radio people, producers and half a dozen other people. By the end of that, the original idea might be watered down, or the message changed. That was really tough to deal with, but not so tough that I cried myself to sleep at night. It was still a good job, any way you slice it," he adds, ever grateful to be living out a version of his dreams.

"If you want something badly enough, then impossible is just a matter of making a decision"

In 2015, Dallon once again became a touring-only member of Panic!, writing on Twitter that he'd still be playing bass but not contributing creatively to the band. The next year he founded iDKHOW with his ex-The Brobecks bandmate Ryan Seaman and in 2017, he quit Panic! to focus on this new project.

"I did have something to prove with this record. For my whole life, I've been told everything I wanted was impossible, but here we are. It's because of hard work and a little bit of luck but if you want something badly enough, then impossible is just a matter of making a decision."

For the first time in almost a decade, Dallon was betting on himself. "There were no goals when we started iDKHOW. There was no purpose other than to have fun."

To ensure they had space to play, for the first year of iDKHOW, the band played secret shows, and Dallon and Ryan denied their involvement. "We knew eventually we'd have to admit to what we were doing, and as soon as we did there'd be this influx of people coming in [because of the bands we'd been in previously]. But we never wanted to exploit that. We didn't want to ride on anyone's coattails. It's inevitable that people are going to say, 'you're only here because you used to play in that band', and that reality isn't lost on us. What we do want to do, however, is do this band as separately and as honestly as we can, with as much credibility as we can manage."

Still to this day, iDKHOW do everything in their power to stand apart from what else is out there. Onstage, Dallon wears Marc Bolan-inspired glitter dots simply because he never used to. "That was just a little thing to separate being on stage with Panic! versus being on stage for myself." And in the studio, if a song starts feeling too familiar, they hit the brakes and take it in a different direction.

"We try to do as much as we can to keep these worlds separate," says Dallon, before admitting that it's hard to do "when you've done so much creatively for another band because your thumbprints are still on it."

It's not just the shadow of their former bands Dallon and Ryan (who once drummed with emo cock-rockers Falling In Reverse) are trying to outrun, though. As a two-piece, everyone is just waiting to compare iDKHOW to Twenty One Pilots, Royal Blood or Death From Above. Because of that, "we do actively try to avoid any similarities, whether sonically, visually or aesthetically in whatever we do. We try to keep it as unique as we can."

When the band used to play live, Dallon would bring out a ukulele for any acoustic songs, but that just ramped up the comparisons to Twenty One Pilots. Now, he's got a four-stringed Tenor Guitar for those moments. "It's just one small thing to take us a step further away from what another band is doing."

As well as giving them space from their day jobs, those secret shows also let iDKHOW figure out what the hell they were doing. "It had been such a long time since I've been in that role centre stage, in the spotlight, I'd forgotten that part of myself," says Dallon.

It took a year of playing in secret and the entirety of their '1981 Extended Play' for him to "find my own voice as a writer." Looking back on it now, debut single 'Modern Day Cain' doesn't feel quite right. Sure, the same glam-rock theatrics can be found across 'Razzmatazz', but he "was still in the headspace of writing for other artists."

Blowing those cobwebs away and putting on his frontman shoes, iDKHOW's debut album doesn't shy away from saying exactly what's on Dallon's mind. "Because it's been a long time since I've had the opportunity to write about this stuff, I think it all came out at once. It's been cathartic."

"There are very few things I hate as much as the old cliché of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll"

On the surface, 'Razzmatazz' sounds joyful and upbeat, but just below the surface, it gets real emo. The macabre 'From The Gallows' sees the band eager to please with Dallon singing, "for you I'd die, or kill myself, whichever makes you smile," while the fiery 'Leave Me Alone' demands space. "Go fly a kite until you're tangled in the hanging tree," Dallon snarls.

"That seems to be my default setting. Maybe I just got some kind of darkness in me and writing songs is how it comes out. If that's the case, then so be it. It feels like a healthy way for that to manifest itself."

Not only frustrated with his own experience in Hollywood, 'Razzmatazz' takes issue with the huge advantage that people from money have in art. "I didn't grow up with money, and up until about 2014, I was still working regular jobs while touring in a band. I'm coming from a place that most people come from."

'Razzmatazz' taps into the fury and frustration that comes from how unfair the whole system is. "People connect with ideas like that because a lot of working-class people do have big dreams, but they don't have the opportunity to pursue them. A lot of the time that's because of money, or it's because you don't know the right people or that little bit of luck never strikes for them.

"It's bizarre to think that out there in the middle of nowhere, some kid with a guitar is writing the best music that nobody is ever going to hear, just because they don't know the right people or mom and dad don't have enough money to send them here. It's such a shame that sometimes lightning strikes for people who take it for granted."

Dallon's seen it first hand. "That's really infuriating to me. There are people who treat the opportunities they have like a toy. They don't respect the position that they're in or the fans that they have. They think that they are where they are because of their talent. It's certainly wonderful to be talented - I'm not speaking for myself, I'm a bass player - but your talent has very little to do with being in the position that you're in." A lot of it is down to privilege.

But iDKHOW still want to have fun. You kinda have to with a name like I Don't Know How But They Found Me, a title that captures that initial M.O. of secrecy, but now is one that Dallon does regret a bit. "A good band name is Led Zeppelin, but for the most part, all band names are terrible. The Beatles, greatest band of all time, have a pun for a name. You just have to embrace the fact that band names are ridiculous and not care. "

The world might know their real names but the band have traded that mystery in for another. On '1981', there was a loose concept that iDKHOW were a band from 40 years ago that never had that moment of cultural significance that they hoped for.

"We never want to have to do the exact same thing twice, though. So rather than just continue on with that story, we decided to twist the narrative a little bit on 'Razzmatazz' and start introducing this pseudo governmental corporation [the Telex Corporation] which is a metaphor for the music industry."

In the future, they might do away with the concepts altogether. Dallon is already ready to release fan-favourite and' Razzmatazz' offcut, 'Mx Sinister' (changed from Mr Sinister so not to promote any sort of violence against women) and he's toying with the idea of another Christmas song, though he knows time is against him.

He's also got an album and a half worth of new ideas for iDKHOW. "I'm finding moments here and there to work on songs because what else am I going to do?"

"It's ok to be sad, angry and to show emotion"

Right now, though, 'Razzmatazz' tackles the way that art is manufactured and sold as a product. "We're just kind of pulling the curtain back a little bit more this time around. It's not necessarily what you thought it was."

Inspired by the storytelling narratives of David Bowie's 'The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars' and The Beatles' 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band', 'Razzmatazz''s fictional storyline is "important," he says, "but it comes secondary to making the actual record. I want the music to always be able to stand on its own. That story is just another layer of entertainment for anyone who cares to dive into it. And if you don't, then that's totally fine." It also acts as armour for Dallon.

"I'm singing about things that are very real to me, but presenting them in a fictional narrative helps protect me. It also helps me to say what I want to say without being explicit." In the cartoonish world of 'Razzmatazz', "you can say whatever you want to say."

If you're expecting iDKHOW's debut album to be serving beef with the tea though, you're going to be disappointed. "I'm not interested in airing out dirty laundry, and I'm not interested in talking trash about anybody. There are very real things that I want to say and get out of my system, but if that comes at the expense of publicly taking someone down, I'm not interested."

It is, after all, a positive record driven by excitement. In the studio, Dallon threw everything at every song in a bid to answer all those 'What if…?' questions ("luckily we had a patient producer, Tim Pagnotta"), and after a lifetime of being told he was never going to make it, or having to stand left-of-centre stage, there's a real confidence to 'Razzmatazz'.

Millions of streams and sharing festival stages with the likes of Twenty One Pilots and Billie Eilish will do that for a band, especially if they only have five songs to their name at the time. "We started out this thing playing for 30 people, then 100, 200, and all of a sudden we're on the Main Stage of Reading & Leeds. It was very overwhelming, but in the best way possible."

Because of those validating experiences, 'Razzmatazz' wears those bombastic, Queen influences proudly. From the soaring vocals on the opening thrust of 'Leave Me Alone' to the killer sax that plays out as the title-track swells and decays, it's an album that isn't afraid of going big.

Elsewhere, Dallon gets soppy, stripping back the anger and talking openly about his family. The twinkling slow dance of 'Kiss Goodnight' is about the first night he met his wife, while the dreamy urgency of 'Need You Here' is an oldie, started years ago on the road when he was missing his family. He got his then six-year-old daughter to record a spoken word bit for it, but he could never finish the track because he couldn't listen to it without crying. Now she's in Junior High and sings around the house. "I heard her one day, and it blew me away. I wanted to encourage that talent because it's not something I ever had growing up." They had a talk about revisiting the track and, long story short, she now gets 15% of the publishing.

Despite the nostalgia that iDKHOW hide behind, sampling television shows from the 1950s and with a love of all things 80s goth-pop, they are a very modern band. They talk on Twitter about identity, pull from the likes of Muse or St. Vincent and refuse to play up to the idea of being rock stars, despite their dress sense.

"There are very few things I hate as much as the old cliché of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. That philosophy of 'do whatever you want' is a shit way to live, because it fails to take into account other people."

While the lyrics don't talk about it explicitly, 'Razzmatazz' champions being as emotionally available as possible. "I grew up in a time where if you had feelings, you kept them locked up, you didn't talk about it and you never, ever cry. Instead, you strapped on a pair and manned-up. That's so incredibly unhealthy. I only learnt about the term toxic masculinity a few years ago, but it helped me grow as a person and as an artist. It's ok to be sad, angry and to show emotion. I would call this a positive record just 'cos I've been able to write without restrictions and without anything governing my ideas."

"I don't consider myself a role model; I've certainly made mistakes"

He might not want to be a rock star and is only the frontman of iDKHOW out of necessity, rather than a thirst for fame, but Dallon does feel a responsibility to use his platform to say something to his fans. He does sorta owe them after all.

"When it comes to music, young people are going to be the majority of the audience. I don't consider myself a role model because I've certainly made mistakes, have screwed up and done things I'm not proud of, but it's because of those young people, those fans on Twitter, that have allowed me to learn and to try and improve myself.

"In the past five years, I've learnt about things like problematic speech, thinking and language. I'm incredibly grateful for them because throughout my life, I've been made to feel like I was less than, and I never want to make anybody feel that way. I've been guilty of that stuff in the past and becoming aware is the first step to changing it.

"If there's ignorance that exists in my life, I want to point it out so that I can change it. I feel like if there's any experience that my old age can provide for them, I want to try to return the favour. The feeling of responsibility comes from this exchange that I've had with fans. They've helped me a lot, and if there's any way that I can help them, whether it's through music, or through some kind of interaction, I want to do that. I feel like it's part of the job."

Otherworldly and poised to steal your heart with the carnival chaos of 'Razzmatazz', iDKHOW are a band that have had to work for what they've got. They've never taken the easy path, even when it's been offered, because it would mean sacrificing a small corner of their world and that's a price that's never worth paying.

Instead, the band are free to do whatever they want, but never at the expense of anyone else. "It's important to remember that every one of us who has a voice - whether it's big and for stadiums, or whether you're talking to a club full of two-dozen people - is incredibly lucky to be in that position," Dallon considers. "And I hope that I never ever forget that."

Taken from the November issue of Upset. iDKHOW's debut album 'Razzmatazz' is out now.

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