Perhapsy Brings Honesty With New Album

by Chris Alarie

For more than five years, Derek Barber has been a busy, integral part of the Oakland music scene. He's lent his prodigious six-string talents to a number of bands, including Bells Atlas, Astronauts, etc., Madeline Kenney, and In Watermelon Sugar (my old band), among others. But in revent years, he's turned more of his attention to his solo project, Perhapsy. Barber is preparing to release the second Perhapsy album, Me Tie Dought-ty Walker, on March 3rd. The album, which he recorded over the period of several years with his friend Jonathan Thompson, is a lush, nostalgic slice of midwestern sincerity and musical sweetness. I interviewed him about the album and his plans for Perhapsy.

Derek Barber of Perhapsy

Uncanny Valley Magazine: First of all, what took so long? I remember you starting to work on this album more than three years ago.

Derek Barber: Well, it's a combination of a long-distance musical relationship with my Olympia, WA-based, long-time friend Jonathan Thompson (who recorded the majority of the album and played drums on it) and being busy with my other two projects Astronauts, etc and Bells Atlas. To be honest, there were a couple moments when I considered scrapping the whole thing and thought it may never be finished.

UVM: Who else plays on the album? What was the recording process like? 

DB: Aside from Jon Thompson on drums, backing vocals, and a few various instruments, I enlisted the bass guitar talents of my friends Christian Carpenter and Scott Brown. However, I do play some bass on the album as well as pretty much all the instruments (guitars, keys, vox, etc) which I enjoy doing. The album was recorded mainly in Oakland—drums on your kit at the old practice space, in various apartments, and also with a good deal of help from Bijan Sharifi at Robot Envy studios. He's the guy who mastered it. The mixing was done in Olympia by Jon and myself though.

UVM: This album has a very particular sound. What were you aiming for in terms of production, etc? Do you feel happy with the results?

DB: I'm a firm believer in trying to make the best sound possible with whatever tools are at your disposal. I put a lot of stake though in Jon's magical ability to tweak meager sounding things into a really interesting and fuller musical vibe. He did the same sort of thing with the first Perhapsy album (which was pretty much all-instrumental) yet this time around I kinda wanted things to be a little more sloppy hi-fi. I'm pretty happy with it.

UVM: This album reminds me of a lot bands and styles (post-rock, 90s indie rock like Built to Spill and Yo La Tengo, midwestern second-wave emo, even some mainstream alternative rock like the Smashing Pumpkins)—most of which date from the mid-to-late nineties. I also know that you are very much interested in the popular culture from when you were a kid/teenager (e.g. your Jurassic Park and Neverending Story tattoos; the fact that the album is named after a story from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark). Do you consciously look back to the music of your early teenage years in your songwriting and production style? Or is it more something that filters in unconsciously?

DB: It's definitely subconscious, most of the time. I've become more and more comfortable in not shying away from influences, whatever they might be. I think that what connotes originality, often times, is simply a combination of diverse and plentiful influences. Because I did grow up with a lot of mainstream alternative rock (Weezer, Nirvana, etc.) that pull towards writing songs with a hook is something I've always felt. Just like how late-90s post-rock was very informative and important to me and my friends growing up — its aesthetic and very climactic way of interpreting and writing music. 


Still, it's been nice to see musicians of my generation steadily become unafraid of admitting the influence and identity they found in pre-mainstream emo. I think my fascination with nostalgia, however, is more based upon the role it plays in social interaction. Usually, nostalgia gets a bad wrap when it refers to an artist who's regurgitating what's deemed trendy or whatever. I believe, though, if you have a strong memory associated with a film or piece of music (say, Neverending Story or something like it) and you find you share that same feeling or memory with another person, that's a powerful and fascinating connection.



UVM: You've played guitar in a number of bands in Oakland in a number of different sorts of roles. You've been a lead guitarist in bands where somebody else is the primary songwriter (Astronauts etc, In Watermelon Sugar, Madeline Kenney) and been in bands where much of the songwriting is done collectively (Bells Atlas). But Perhapsy is your own project entirely. How is that experience different from the others—both in terms of songwriting and the basic mechanics of running a band? Has your experience playing music in these other sorts of roles influenced your approach to Perhapsy?

DB: That's a good question. I really value having Perhapsy as my own solo project. I've been in enough bands and musical situations that when the creative control isn't clearly understood, problems inevitably arise. I honestly think that anyone who does music should have a solo project. Not only does it allow you to get some of the ideas out of your head that wouldn't fly in another (more collaborative) band, but it makes you appreciate those more democratic musical activities a whole lot more. I'm also lucky to have a backing band for Perhapsy with musicians I know extremely well, and are very quick to pick things up. When it comes to rehearsing, for instance, some bands take a very long time to get things together. With Perhapsy, though, I have enough trust in the capability of my bandmates that I never wish to do more than one or two rehearsals before a show. I want the music to sound like its a little on-edge. It's not that I want it to come off as unpolished but I certainly try to allow room for happy accidents.

UVM: You are an excellent guitarist and have frequently performed some pretty spectacular guitar heroics in some of these other bands (we used to specifically leave space for you to solo in some In Watermelon Sugar songs). And while Me Tie Dough-ty Walker is definitely a very guitar heavy album, it is less reliant on solos, containing, instead, lots of shimmering, layered guitar textures, more subtle riffs, and interesting chord voicings. In terms of melody, the focus is much more on the vocals than the guitars. Is there a reason why you adopted this style, downplaying your soloing for these other elements?

DB: Thanks. Well, a lot of the songs that appear on the album were written right around the time I first started writing with the intention of singing. It was an altogether terrifying but undeniably rewarding period in my life as I was trying to figure out if I could summon the courage to do so. I got very little encouragement (even discouragement) in my youth when it came to singing, so I always just focused on the guitar being my musical identity. I have nothing against guitar solos — in fact, a lot of the newest post-MTDW songs seem to be headed towards more guitar-featuring zones. But I think this album is a bit of an embrace and statement of intent when it comes to singing these songs. 

UVM: Speaking of your singing, there is a sweetness and earnestness to your vocals. There is something very midwestern about it. Again, relating to the nostalgic quality of the music, you grew up in Ohio but have lived in California for several years now, and, as I understand it, didn't start singing in public until after you moved out west. How have you developed your singing style? What are you trying to communicate with your vocals?

DB: Well, it's funny, I always wanted to sing. I just thought if my friends told me I should stick to guitar, why would they steer me wrong? Ha ha. At any rate, I like the idea of earnestness and sweetness associated with the Midwest because I think, to a certain, extent, that's true. I think, as great creative minds like Kurt Vonnegut Jr. suggest, the Midwest is a great place to be from. (In my case, the emphasis is on from, however).

I do remember a moment, late one night, in my dorm room at the University of Michigan (where I studied Jazz Guitar and a bit of English) when I caught myself singing along to the closing track on Elliott Smith's excellent album XO. The song is called "I Didn't Understand" and it's just a cappella, gorgeous, and fucking tragic. I tape recorded myself singing it and it didn't sound horrible to me. That was the first moment I thought maybe this could be a possibility. The one friend that actually did offer me encouragement, in terms of singing, once described my voice as sounding like "calm water." I thought that was really kind of her.
 
But yeah, I still have a lot of hang-ups with singing. Before recording any vocals on any song, I have a ritual: I say "Fuck it" and hit record. As far as communicating goes, I can only hope to give a listener the same feeling I get when I hear Daniel Johnston, Elliott Smith, or Bob Dylan: honesty.



UVM: What are your plans for the album, in terms of release? Is there going to be a record release show? Will there be a tour? I know you've traded off between performing Perhapsy solo and with a full band; are your planning on continuing this flexible sort of arrangement?
DB: Well, the album comes out on March 3rd and there's going to be a release show on March 6th at the Starline Ballroom in Oakland—you've been there, yeah? Anyhow, it's kind of a fancy joint now and is a good hangout space for the artsy music kids. I hope to have physical copies soon and if an ideal tour presents itself, I'd be interested. However, I'm getting older now and time away from my girlfriend Maddie is kind of a big deal. But I never thought I'd be in the kind of relationship that meant this much to me, so it's cool. Also, I do like the flexibility of playing solo when the opportunity seems to fit. But playing with the full band is freeing in its own way and usually a hell of a lot more fun.

UVM: As discussed above, this album took a while to make and you've written and recorded (as demos, ostensibly) a good batch of new songs since then. Has it been strange, leading up to the release of the album, to focus on these older songs, some of which may have since left your usual repertoire? Do you have plans to record another album in the next couple of years with the newer songs?

DB: Yes, it's a bit odd releasing songs that are nearly four years old or so. Strangely enough, while I was working on the album, I had serious doubts about the quality of the songs. It's only in the last year, however, that I've realized that I actually like the songs a lot. Not that I can't do better, hopefully, but that the songs where I'm making myself kinda vulnerable actually are pretty satisfying. I think I'm always a bit scared about how my music comes off to my friends or random folks. But finally putting this thing out will be very healthy for whatever comes along next. And yes, I currently have about thirty or so new ones to choose from for the next album. I assure you, sir, it won't take as long to put together.

Me Tie Dough-ty Walker is available for pre-order on Perhapsy's Bandcamp page and will be released on March 3rd. Derek will perform the album at the Starline Social Club in Oakland on March 6th.

Chris Alarie is Spectacular Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.

Some Oakland Ghost Stories

by Chris Alarie

Ten years ago, while I was a student at California College of the Arts, I lived in the Webster Hall dormitory, which was housed in the top two floors of the Oakland YWCA building. The building itself was beautiful—designed by Julia Morgan and built in 1915. But the building was also home to some supernatural residents. During the year that I lived there, I gathered a number of ghost stories and legends about the building at 1515 Webster Street in Oakland. In honor of the spooky holiday, I thought I'd share a few.

The Basement

The basement of the building was definitely one of the creepier places I've ever been and, unsurprisingly, there are a number of stories about that part of the building. One of my dorm mates worked part time for the YWCA and told me that the employees had frequent problems with the gym located down there. She said that she would close everything down and lock it at night, only to find the doors wide open, the lights turned on, and the radio blaring in the morning. In fact, this was such a consistent problem that the YWCA had invested in a series of increasingly complex locks, as they assumed that a person was sneaking down and opening the gym. Of course, those locks do no good against a ghost and the employees would continue to find the gym open in the mornings.

Similarly mysterious late night happenings would occur elsewhere in the basement. A number of my classmates reported hearing the showers running and seeing steam coming from the locker rooms late at night, long after the building had been closed to the public and at a time of night when it would have made no sense for any of us residents to be using those showers (we had showers of our own up on the 4th and 5th floors).

The laundry room was also located in the basement and became a rather creepy place late at night. There was a locked door in the back of the room that seemed to lead to the back of the elevator shaft. Periodically, a large, blood-like stain would appear from underneath the door. The YWCA employees would clean it but it would reappear within a few days. A friend of mine told me that when she was doing laundry late one night, the handle of the door started shaking and turning violently, as if someone inside was trying to get out. She tried to ignore it and focus on her laundry but the shaking wouldn't stop and she became so disconcerted that she had to leave.

The Upper Floors

I lived up on the fifth floor, in a room that faced inward toward the atrium. I learned that a despondent young woman had hanged herself in the room next to mine in the 1940s. Accordingly, the resident of the room while I lived there told me that a number of strange occurences would happen, including a disembodied voice and a tendency for her windows to unlock and fly open on their own (the windows opened outward, making it unlikely that the wind was the cause).

Windows seemed to be a frequent target of the building's ghosts' activities. Another friend who lived elsewhere on the fifth floor told me that she was alone in her room one night when her window unlocked itself and started opening and closing on its own. This was particular unusual as it was a window that opened and closed by sliding up and down. Like my friend in the laundry room, she tried to ignore it until it became too overwhelming and she left.

There was a ballroom on the second floor that also seemed to be home to some vague but decidedly creepy energy. There was a beautiful grand piano in the back of the room and occasionally students would go in there to play it. A friend of mine once entered the room with that intention but he noticed that the lights would dim the closer that he got to the piano. This was particularly disconcerting as the room's lights were not equipped with a dimmer switch. My friend, who is not particularly likely to believe in ghosts or invent supernatural stories, said he felt an undefinable, threatening energy and left the room in a haste. I heard of another student who had a similar experience where he bolted up from the piano and ran out of the room when he noticed a figure looming over him from behind the room's curtains.

The Pool

Without question, the creepiest place in the building was the abandoned pool in the basement. The pool was visible through windows along the building's main staircase and I would often find myself peeking out at it while walking up to my room. The room was always dark and foreboding, with the pool itself a dark, empty hole in the middle of the room. The story that I heard was that the pool had been closed some three decades earlier when two young boys—in some versions of the story, they were brothers—drowned and the YWCA had to close the pool when they could not afford the raised insurance premiums. 

I met a number of students from over the years who insisted that they had either seen or heard the boys' ghosts running around in and around the pool. One student had even come face to face with them after she had gone into the pool, with the YWCA's permission, to take some photos for a project. Needless to say, she did not stay in the pool to finish the project as intended.

Ultimately, these may not be the most exciting or frightening ghost stories. But having lived in the Oakland YWCA building and having heard many of these stories directly from the people who experienced them, I can say that the building is hella haunted. I'm sure other students who have lived there in the ten years since I moved out could add stories of their own. Happy Halloween.

Chris Alarie is Senior Ghost-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.

Three Oakland Poems

by the Editorial Staff of Uncanny Valley Magazine

There Was Something I Just Thought Of (Sixth)

by Douglas Slayton

When it was late I'd stand under the lights

on the platform, waiting for the rattle

of the tracks, as the dark blue black of night

sinks my cover of yellow light crackle.

I miss the moon hanging over my bed,

when I had no where to be the next day.

I miss nights that were quiet in my head

and the bed wasn't mine but I could stay.

I wasn't scared of the streets I walked

knowing they'd be around in the morning.

I hate every night like the one we talked.

You're in my clothes, more with every washing.

I remember every night, they haunt me,

and how the last train was always empty.

Walk Home

by Chris Alarie

A shot sounds at a sideshow

And does not disrupt a thing

Danger is likely, life is lively

Catch a fade, go dumb, super hyphy

A crowd gathers at a warehouse

Tangle of noise & limbs & beer

Money for the touring bands, please

How strange that somebody lives here

Bobby & Huey

Huey & Officer Frey

Little Bobby Hutton

Huey & Tyrone Robinson

New Year's Eve, I walk home

From MacArthur BART, drunk

In the rain, the long way

Past Casper's Hot Dogs twice

Sick to my stomach of

Myself and everything

I buy some Gatorade

Watch The Simpsons 'til dawn

I live here, I am home

Is the bullet hole in the

Window of 'Lectric Washouse

Still there? I wonder, years later

Home

by Alexis Faulkner

Can take your heart at any time

Fashion it into a pretzel shield

And then squeeze all of the blood all over the shoes

Of your tribe

Oakland is a mess of palm trees

And basketball courts and friendly faces

Sometimes turned worried into that frantic well of loneliness and misdirection

It is the punks that press you back into shape

It is the hippies that make you know love

It is the lake that shows you dead catfish

Even the dying are happy to pass

At home

Ivy Drive

The stories I am missing show me that this was a young place

But parents shot at everything

Wrote it all down

My first memory, big shake and smashing the whole kitchen

My mom wrote it in October 1989

Garfield Avenue

The one lemons were three lemons and everyone stopped by to hustle up the tree while my family wasn’t looking

I put my black cat in the swing and Uboo never gave me hell

And Giamocha lent his tail to every occasion

Plum wine, we said, as fruit rained down over the roof

Too many rotten on the concrete

Rottweilers, neighbors and our own kept us all over that hood

Busted hydrants for summer

Winter

Winter was homeless there

Winter has no place in Oakland

My baby sister

My baby bunk beds

My Easter Bunny

My salad of nasturtiums

My friends in Diamond Heights

The school of Redwood Heights

The hills of Grandma lavender and her chemistry

Ever July planning on planting more bushes

A new millennium on Vernon Street

Junk

We had a lot of junk but I kept our books in the best order of the English alphabet And just stuffed the rest in the closet

There was a black cat there too who was sweet with luck

But less than the magic one

BART and the 57 kept late nights up later and long walks up that sunnyslope never felt less than Everest

I haven’t the best habits about keeping memories

Locked in order

I haven’t the best record of where

Shattuck Avenue

The concrete that touched my house touched a cherry plum tree and it broke apart

And threw me off my bike

Gave me the feeling that Oakland would never change

The city would flood and drain with fresh thousands and the streets

Would always be unpaved

This place was right near Ashby

The house had not only been for me

Psychedelic leave-behinds, sharpie skinhead cartoons, tchotchkes generations old

Every crusty creeper in Berkeley left vibes on Shattuck

Shattuck Avenue was a double exposure of holding hands

And spinning as hard as the wind ever blows

Overtop small shadows of dark leaves and flowers

Precious and brilliant and wanting a harder party and never looking back

In the end, we got robbed and I moved back to San Francisco

The best July was the roof on Alcatraz Avenue

First holiday stop: Berkeley Roses

But the view was no good and I’m glad we went back to base

The television volume broke my patience a thousand times over

But this time drowned completely by a campaign of flames

I loved every minute of that dangerous display

I wish memories were something final

I wish memories were easy to keep filed in your brain

And they were an exact representation of a time and place

But mostly they are shifting

Mostly they suit my best fantasy about my own life

All I want to remember

All I can remember

I remember being friends and being in Love with Oakland

Alexis Faulkner is Executive Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine. 
Chris Alarie is Senior Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.
Doug Slayton is Professor Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.