idle hands: How and when did you guys start playing?
Jordyn Bonds: The band formed when David and Joel got together to start an "arena rock" side project. David was in a prog rock band called The Nationale Blue at the time; Joel, Jonathan, and I were (and still are) in a shoegazey band called Polaris Mine. David and Joel brought Jonathan in on drums, but quickly realized they weren't getting anywhere with the arena rock agenda, so Joel came in one day with a bunch of songs he'd written.
There have been a couple of line-up changes -- most recently we've addded our friend Joanne Dill [read: Webster -Joel] on keyboards.
ih: How would you describe your sound?
Joel Roston: Well, I can tell you how I respond when people who haven't heard us ask what we sound like and that's, "It's, like, loud rock music." If pressed further, I follow up with, "We really love The Beatles."
ih: What's the best thing about the Boston music scene?
Jordyn: The best thing about playing music in Boston is that, for the most part, people are genuinely excited about music. A certain group of very committed and enthusiastic people come out to shows, they listen, they interact. More strangers will come up to you after a show to talk about your music than in most other places I've played in the US.
ih: What's the Boston music scene missing?
Jordyn: Despite what I said above, more people coming out to shows! It's a paradox about this town that there are, what, ninety million universities here but barely any college kids coming out to shows. Sure, they'll go see Arcade Fire at the Orpheum or whatever, but where's the local love? I'm sure they all go home every summer and go to shows in their towns, but why not while at school as well? I think that sort of residual turnover rate keeps the scene smaller and more insulated than it should be, given Boston's size.
ih: Is it a Big Bear show without a broken tambourine?
Joel: Good question! I've been reading a ton about the Sorites Paradox lately. It doesn't always manifest itself as a paradox, mind you -- sometimes it's just more of a puzzle, really (though there is a paradoxical equation that can be derived). It's often referred to as a "little by little" argument.
The traditional example is a heap of sand. Like, if I tell you that I have a grain of sand, you wouldn't consider that a heap. Nor would you consider two or five or twenty or probably a hundred grains of sand a heap. There would be a point, however, after I added a certain number of grains at which you would admit that I have a heap of sand. The trick is figuring out where "some sand" ends and "a heap of sand" begins.
Likewise, if I were to tell you that a man who stands six-feet-six-inches is tall, you'd agree. Certainly, subtracting an inch wouldn't make him not tall. Subtracting even two inches wouldn't make him not tall. But sooner or later, after subtracting an inch a certain number of times, one would have to admit that that mother fucker is no longer tall, right? Certainly, you can lay down some arbitrary rule, like, "Six feet is the cut off. Anyone under six feet is no longer tall." But, then, like, if you had thirty people that you had to divide up into the categories of short and tall with fifteen of them being four feet tall, fourteen being one millimeter over six-feet tall and one of them being one-millimeter under six-feet tall, would you really put that last guy or gal or person of indeterminate gender in the short group? Doubtful, friends. Doubtful.
And, but, so, like, is a Big Bear show still a Big Bear show without a broken tambourine? I would have to say yes. In fact, I believe it would be a Big Bear show without a tambourine all together. We often times don't have a tambourine at practice. If not having a tambourine at a Big Bear show wasn't a Big Bear show, then, logically, not having a tambourine at Big Bear practice wouldn't be a Big Bear practice, right? Sometimes we don't even have all of our members at practice.
So, just scanning the possible permutations and iterations of the presentation of "Big Bear," I would have to say that not only is a Big Bear show without a broken tambourine decidedly a Big Bear show, but I would think that there are a number of established parameters that, if somehow shifted or changed, would not compromise the structural integrity of Big Bear or the idea of a "Big Bear show." This would include, but is not limited to employing different instruments, substituting, losing, or gaining members, PA quality, lighting arrangement, body temperature of band members, level of psychedelic awareness of band members, etc.
Of course, this is all open for discussion. I'm not sold on any of it -- it's just what I've been thinking about lately. Email me to discuss: bigbearbigbear@gmail.com
ih: Why should people come see you live?
Joel: I have no idea why people should come to see us live. I can comment on why we enjoy playing live, certainly, but that's about where my knowledge on the subject ends. I mean, if I HAD to come up with an answer or people were going to kill my parents in front of me? Is that what you're asking? If that were the case, I would say that you should come see us live maybe if you're a friend of ours and you want to support us. Or maybe you should come see us live if you borrowed something from one of us and your schedule doesn't permit you to retrieve the item at any other time. Likewise, if we borrowed something from you and we told you we'd bring it to the show (which I don't know if I'd do because that seems like a ploy to get someone to come to a show UNLESS the person already said they were DEFINITELY coming) you should probably come out. Certainly, if you're related to one of us and we're playing in a city that you live in, that's a good reason. If you're one of our co-workers and you're curious about what we do, certainly that seems like it could be a motivating factor.
I guess there are reasons to see bands that go beyond those I listed, though. Like, when Ho-ag and Hallelujah the Hills played that combined show together as one band. That's a good reason to go to a show -- like a once in a lifetime event (I missed that show, by the way). Or, if a band doesn't play around town too often and they're here on tour. Really, though, these aren't reasons to come out and see "our" band, which is the question we were asked here. I guess that's the way the whole darn human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself, down through the generations, Westward the wagons, across the sands of time until we... ah, look at me, I'm ramblin' again.
Photo by Heather McGrath © 2006
