Midlake from p17 During a meeting in 2019, the band went around the table and asked, “Who’s in?” Smith recalls that while he, McClellan, Pulido, Chandler and Nichelson all agreed that the time was right, Alexander politely opted out. “When we got to Paul, he was like, ‘I’m not going to do it. You have my blessings to keep going, please keep doing it, I’m just in a different place now. A healthy, different direction. It was a great ride, love you guys,’” Smith says. It was especially bittersweet for Smith, as he and Alexander’s meeting was the im- petus of Midlake at the University of North Texas in 1997. “Love the guy,” Smith says. “But it was just his time to move on.” Holding down the low end on For the Mon- Wed 5PM-12AM Thurs-Fri 5PM-2AM We’re open! MUSIC EMAIL D go to Sake of Bethel Woods is bassist Scott Lee of fellow DFW roots-rockers The Texas Gen- tlemen. Lee has been a part of the ex- tended Midlake family for a number of years now, having played on the BNQT al- bum and on the members of Midlake’s var- ious solo projects. One of the reasons Midlake decided to reform when they did was their relation- ship to the Denton community. “The band’s been around so long, and Sat-Sun 12PM-2AM Please check our Facebook Page for more up-to-date info! 2714 Elm St • 972-803-5151 armouryde.com SIGN UP FOR OUR MUSIC EMAIL LIST Keep your thumb on the local music scene with music features, additional online music listings and show picks. www.dallasobserver.com/signup we’re all still in this little town,” Chandler says. “I think that a lot of bands that have stood the test of time sort of scatter like how families scatter. To me it was a no-brainer, we’re all still in this town, none of us have moved to L.A.” Pulido says that while he may not keep in touch with the North Texas music/art scene as much as he should, the reason he and the rest of Midlake have remained in Denton is a practical one. “It’s pretty cheap living,” he says. “To start a business like a bar or a studio like Joey and McKenzie did, or to even own a home, it’s a difficult thing to do, and it’s even become progressively more difficult thing to do in this town as prices rise, but Denton has historically had all of the things that we would want or need and be affordable to do so. Grow your family, put your flag in the ground, and say ‘I want to invest in more than just what I’m doing. I want to be a part of what the town is doing.’ It really has be- come that place because of that. “It’s really difficult to move from that and change that scenery, especially as we grow older, have kids and such.” “I do wish we had a good bagel place, but that’s just me,” Chandler says with a laugh. The camaraderie of Midlake is a sight to see. At one point, Smith is humorously re- counting one of the band’s European tours when Chandler nearly jumps the gun. “Tell him who opened for us.” “Jesse, don’t mess my story up or I’ll have to karate chop you in the neck,” Smith says calmly. This time Chandler laughs along with ev- 18 erybody else, and yields the storytelling rights to Smith: “Our label was like, ‘There’s this band with a record coming out, I think it would be great if they supported you.’ We were like ‘Sure, whatever.’ So on the first night of the tour, we saw a bunch of younger women in the front area and we were like, ‘What is going on here?’ We’re not used to courtesy Midlake/Barbara FG this,’” Smith says laughing, in reference to the band’s tendency to attract an older, pre- dominantly male crowd. “As soon as the opening act was done, all of those young people would clear out and we would see the actual, older Midlake fans, seated back in the theater area. It’s funny in hindsight because that band was Mumford & Sons.” Smith shrugs and makes his point: “So, if you want to be huge, just open for Midlake.” Pulido turns to me and says, “If you ever interview Marcus Mumford, tell him he owes us 300 pounds for his liquor cabinet.” “During that tour, we went to a pub near our hotel to meet up with Marcus Mumford,” Smith says, resuming the role of raconteur. “People started whispering, everyone spotted him, he started getting ambushed and eventually he said, ‘We gotta go.’ Over [in England] there was a service before Doordash where we had 300 pounds of booze delivered, and around the time we got back to Marcus’ flat, the party started dying down and Marcus said, ‘All right guys, thanks for coming.’ We all looked at each other and said, ‘Did we just stock Marcus Mum- ford’s liquor cabinet?” With all of this camaraderie and such a no-pressure environment, what was the biggest challenge Midlake faced during the recording of the new record? “Deciding on where to have lunch,” Mc- Clellan says. “The second half of the day might have been a little less productive after lunch,” Pu- lido says with a laugh. “To me this has been the least challeng- ing record that we’ve ever made,” McClellan says. “Which all comes down to trust. We all trust one another, which was hard to accept in the beginning. I have a lot of respect for these guys and their abilities. For me, that will be the process going forward.” On whether the freedom can be exces- sive without the comfort of constraint, Nichelson says it’s a nonissue. “It’s a positive Midlake will release their new album For the Sake of Bethel Woods this month. thing,” he says. “Tim’s vision for the songs was very specific. The whole process was trying to get into his vision, there wasn’t time to think ‘Who am I as a musician? It was always through his filter. Everyone’s such a great musician in their own right, so there’s no apprehension.” “It’s very freeing to be trusted. I wouldn’t go back,” Chandler says. “Though there’s little things that maybe I’d want to change in past songs or past things, I wouldn’t ever go back and do a ‘George Lucas special edi- tion,’” he says. “Maybe that’s just the jazz musician in me. It’s just a fleeting thing, and it’s just a snapshot of what we were doing at the time, just like this is. I’m already think- ing about what we could do next to develop this method. As you mature, you’re able to realize what a finished song, album or piece of art is. You’re able to recognize that more easily than when you’re 20. You’re like, ‘Whoa, I can do this and this and this,’ the feeling that you don’t have to look or be cool anymore. “So many things in the last five years; we’ve all had children, we’ve lost our par- ents, we’ve been through a pandemic,” Chandler says. “Collectively, everybody has been through trauma. It puts things in per- spective for sure. Makes you realize what really matters. I don’t think any of us were willing to put ourselves through any addi- tional trauma to make a record.” “Amen!” Smith shouts. “There’s sort of a trance-like state you get in when you’re recording,” Chandler says. “Even when you’re just messing around. Your mind is sort of blank and it feels like you’re hypnotized. You’re trying not to over- think things. As you get older and you get more experienced, you’re able to get to that place easier.” “Is that’s what’s going on when you space out, Jesse?” Pulido interjects. “Either that, or I’m thinking about bagels.” MARCH 3–9, 2022 DALLAS OBSERVER CLASSIFIED | MUSIC | DISH | CULTURE | UNFAIR PARK | CONTENTS dallasobserver.com
