Music that matters, but isn't afraid to have fun: SWMRS delve into 'Berkeley's On Fire'
Rallying against the world around them, but with hope in their hearts, SWMRS’ second album proper isn’t so much a spark that starts a fire as a personal pledge.
SWMRS' 2016 album ‘Drive North' was a caustic, beat-up record of hometown frustrations, daydreamed adventure and mirror image unease. They wanted to get away. They wanted to figure it out. They weren't even sure what ‘it' was, but it drove the band forward.
The confusion, self-doubt and anxiety that zig-zagged through the album wound its way around the self-belief that SWMRS were going to find their own way. If there were answers to be had, the band were going to unearth them themselves. Riding ‘Drive North' into the wild, SWMRS went out, them versus the world.
It turns out they weren't alone.
"We went through our early twenties during ‘Drive North' and those years are so transformative," starts guitarist/vocalist Max Becker, "not only on the human psyche but also where your position is at in the world, what kinda people you want to surround yourself with and what values you hold dear.
"We had this unique opportunity to explore all these different regions of the world and listen to people's stories," explains guitarist/vocalist Cole Becker. "When people go to a show, and they feel they can make themselves vulnerable to you, they tell you exactly what's going on in their life, and there's no guard. They don't have any filter. You learn so much about these kids, what everyone is experiencing and how they're interpreting the world around them as it feels like it's crashing down. That had a big impact on us."
SWMRS' first record as SWMRS was fiercely independent. Partly to prove they could do it by themselves, without help from famous dads or major labels, and partly because they didn't want anyone interfering with their vision. ‘Berkeley's On Fire' sees the band team up with Fueled By Ramen. It's a partnership that's opened doors and minds.
That scope, along with their ever-blossoming fanbase, meant that SWMRS started to think larger on ‘Berkeley's On Fire'.
"We had big ideas and big hopes for it," beams Max, "but once we got into the studio with Rich Costey, he took everything we've ever done to not only the next level but ten levels past where we were.
"This record exceeded my expectations and every day we were in the studio, we just felt like the luckiest boys in the world. I've been waiting for this my whole life. I'm 25, but I'm pretty much 60. We've been doing this for so long; we're definitely ready.
"We've been doing 200 cap rooms since we were 12 years old with Emily's Army," continues Cole. "It felt like we had an opportunity to move on and not a lot of people get that. It felt time. I was definitely terrified.
Most of ‘Drive North' saw Cole singing which established SWMRS as "having this epic punk ethos", but they finished the cycle with Max-penned ‘Lose It'. "All of a sudden people realised we had a soft side as well." While that first record established SWMRS as a gang, united by a dedicated vision and a lust for life, ‘Berkeley's On Fire' sees them comfortable as individuals.
For Cole, it was ‘April In Houston'. For Max, it was ‘Berkeley's On Fire'. Either way, somewhere in the creation of this record, something clicked between the four of them. SWMRS are a group of distinct personalities that celebrate being an individual. They all pile on and want to be heard, as the record roars with tragedy, triumph and glee. There's a power when it all aligns though.
"We know each other so well as musicians that we don't have to rely on a computer or a light show, or something extraneous," continues Max. "We just know the musical fusion that happens between the four of us" - five with drummer Joey Armstrong's brother Jakob joining them onstage - "radiates outwards so powerfully and so naturally.
"The three years between ‘Drive North' and this album were far from easy. We weren't taking a break," grins Cole. "We were just taking our time to really craft the identity of these songs and turn them into something that not only we could understand, but that anyone can understand.
‘Berkeley's On Fire', despite planting its flag firmly in the ground, finds a balance between global anguish and private horror.
There's the solitary fear of ‘Lonely Ghosts', the admission that "I don't know if I've got this" in ‘Too Much Coffee' while ‘April In Houston' asks, "Is it wrong to be afraid of growing up?"
"Everyone has Twitter these days," continues Cole. "You don't have to listen to music to know that what's going on in the world is fucked up. You don't have to hear that in a song, so it's important to talk about how it manifests in a personal way. Any machine could write a song about the political moment right now, but personality is what makes us human.
"It took a long time for me to feel ready to speak out in a song, and immortalise the kind of discourse we're having," Max explains. "You don't want to get it wrong, you don't want to date yourself, and you certainly don't wanna speak on behalf of people who you really should be letting speak for themselves. That was the main hesitation, but we realised that we had this platform than kept growing, not because of the politics but because of the music.
"Dear Vladimir Putin, stop fucking up my shit ‘cos I know I can fuck it up faster," grins ‘Lose Lose Lose'. " nervous to come out with that, because right now we have a gig in Moscow scheduled for June and I'm really hoping that we're still allowed to play," says Cole. That's one of the few downsides of being so vocal.
Across the record, there are little nods to bigger issues.
"A lot of people like to pour their entire heart out, and at a certain point, you start to ramble. People are smart enough to figure out what a line is going to mean to them on their own, without me having to explain it in every single line.
"That's what's so cool about making music now; I can put in all these references and then people, if they hear a more political or academic reference, they can go research it and find out how they can input their own two cents.
Never losing hope, SWMRS are adamant that there are people you can trust.
Elsewhere ‘Hellboy' looks at school shooters, and what drives them to such extremes.
"One of the biggest and most horrifying things about growing up right now is the spectre of a school shooter coming to your school and murdering you. That's a real fear that everyone has growing up in the States. All the coverage of it is really stupid; we never talk about who is responsible. Obviously, these kids are sick, they're ill, but maybe because it happens so much, it's something that's in our culture, which happens to be a very violent culture.
"We've been at war for the past 60 years, pretty much continuously. For one reason or another, people have had the impulse to shoot up a school, and that's fucking horrifying. But if enough people have that feeling, maybe we should talk about why? I wanted to write a song that humanises that feeling without embracing it. Humanising it so we can move through it.
There's a sense of loss that hangs in the shadows of ‘Berkeley's On Fire'. It acknowledges that somewhere, somehow we lost part of ourselves. A fracture in our collective soul, it's never really given a voice or takes to the spotlight, but it's there.
SWMRS aren't trying to mend wounds; they're just trying to hold it all together.
The band still don't know the destination, but that forward momentum is vital.
"That's the first step," explains Cole. "There are other things I can start doing to stop this from happening at our shows, but the first thing I know how to do is make a 'zine, and give it out for free so that everyone knows, and has all the information they can get on the subject.
"'Zines were the first way I learnt how to express myself, and express ideas to people and I wanted to extend that privilege. It's so fucking lazy to not talk about sexual assault at shows. It happens at every show. Even when we talk about it, it still happens. I'm not going to stop talking about it until people can finally go to any show and not get groped. People are such fuckers. They're gross, entitled mother fuckers but maybe, just maybe, we can stop at least one, and hopefully every fucking stray hand running around.
It feels like things are shifting, though.
"We're restless," smiles Max. "It's not about fame; I've just always wanted to be a good person. As lame as that sounds, that's all I've ever wanted to do. I've been trying to do things and say things that others are afraid to say to push people towards a... not happier because life just is, it's happy, it's unhappy, and it's crazy. I want us to push people towards a better, more understanding way of life.
"Anybody who is making music from their heart, is doing something so important," continues Cole. " I shouldn't be doing something so frivolous right now.
"I had an opportunity to get a college degree, and I could have used that degree to do outreach work with migrants on the border or something. If you're doing that, that's an amazing thing, but making music and sharing it with the world, that's such an important thing for people who don't get the time to make their own music.
"I want people to listen to this record and feel validated. I want people to feel that they're in a place where they can be 100% themselves, and they can embrace all their feelings. I want people to know they can come to our show and they can let it all the fuck out and just really rejoice.
Taken from the April issue of Upset. SWMRS' album 'Berkeley's On Fire' is out now.
