On August 5th in Monty Hall in Jersey City, a slim blonde guy with a light blue shirt tucked into his skinny jeans, just back from a six to seven week tour across America, took the stage surrounded by his baseball capped bandmates. His parents and friends stood in the crowd for Pinegrove’s homecoming that Friday night. Monty Hall felt like a furnished basement from suburbia with its carpeted floors, curtains, and fake silver coined string decorations: a living room with an elevated stage in the back. But once he acclimated to the venue and crowd, Evan, the disheveled yellow haired guitarist and lead singer, looked out into the crowd of young and old faces to start Pinegrove’s set with “Visiting”, a song about the lost and doubt behind wandering for an indescribable security or comfort in friends, love, or home. A feeling everyone in that crowd had felt as they screamed those lyrics back to Evan as he directed the band and audience vocals in and out of its intense avalanching bridge. It felt like we all had landed somewhere safe.
From Montclair, New Jersey, Pinegrove was just a project started by Evan Stephens Hall and Zack Levine (Drums and Backup Vocals), hometown friends since their days in high school. They’ve been playing in New Jersey basements and living rooms for years in towns like Montclair and New Brunswick. Their first album under Run For Cover Records, Cardinal, has been gaining attention and admiration across the internet from Pitchfork to SputnikMusic. Cardinal is incredibly structured and well thought out as it attempts to capture the complications of travel, friendship, and communication. The record is wrapped in a tight dynamic thirty-five minutes of alt-country rock riffing layered with banjos and synths, emo-esque confessionals, and Born to Run/Darkness-era Springsteen rawness, youth, and solemnity with its sparse quiet moments of gentle guitar plucks and emotion fueled crescendos. Cardinal feels like a Jersey album. The Sunday after the show, I was able to ring up Evan to talk about Pinegrove and how the band reached out to its audience through the music and tour.
The night of the show, the crowd filled the room with singing, even though the songs on
Evan Hall at Little Italy, in Philadelphia. PC: Brett Sweeney
Cardinal seem to have a deeply personal background. It’s profound to witness a whole audience sing lyrics that seem so ingrained in someone’s life and relate to them. Evan takes an introspective yet communicative lyrical approach: “Maybe I used to aim inwards but I’m interested in art that has a generosity of spirit and that is a goal of mine more than ever: to make art that is worth sharing and that people are excited to share.” From Virginia Woolf to David Foster Wallace, Evan has picked up this sincerity towards his music and audience through literature grounded in directly tackling “what it is to be a fucking human being” (David Foster Wallace) rather than avoiding vulnerability and honesty through repression and bullshit. During the show, as he tuned between songs, Evan would take questions from the crowd. He answered them as well as he could. Some asked about the origin behind their name and the reception to their music throughout the country. He gave them earnest answers. But also, he took the time to explain the famous Monty Hall paradox. Evan wanted to talk, but he wanted the crowd to share and communicate with him. As the album contains crises of confidence, communication failures, and anxiety over new locations and relationships, Pinegrove during a concert tries to find a solution to those themes through their music
Evan’s voice caterwauled with angst and youth and easily swept to gentle falsetto as the crowd sang along to Pinegrove’s songs. I could see the impact of this music as spastic, joyful gesticulation in a room too cramped for actual dancing reminded me of the camaraderie back inside the basements of New Brunswick. But dancing is only one way to absorb music. Evan explains his own inward reaction: “One particular feeling that I think of when it comes to music that really moves me is kind of like this stomach flip that is lasts a long time. It’s like a very slow flip of the stomach.” That flip of the stomach may be different for each person. Even though it’s invisible, music takes place in a physical medium with strings, wood, brass, and lungs. As an audience, we showed our excitement and appreciation through dancing with one another and chanting the lyrics like scripture. People were willing to share their feelings at these shows. Like many great bands, Pinegrove supplied us with a direct sonic common point.
Cardinal accesses the anxieties of communication and friendship in a very conversational fashion. If you were to read the lyrics without music, it would be a one-sided conversational poem. Evan’s lyrics are layered with complex diction (“solipsistic”, “sublimate”, “aphasia”, “spectral”), but they directly address issues as if Evan is treating the listener as a close friend. But in person or on the phone, the lyrics reflect how Evan converses with someone. Evan talks like he writes music, honest, direct, and with depth: “Music that is really helpful helps you dig in deeper into something that you are already feeling. Music allows an entry point to access in a more meaningful way feelings you already have. So when I listen to [music], and maybe I was going through a rough patch of my own, it really helped me focus that feeling and feel it in a productive way and cathartic way.” Even with a song like “Toast,” a song about overcoming the adversity of “cold yet toasted bread”, has extended meaning for Evan in its creation: “The process of [songwriting] gives me something productive to do instead of feeling anxious or depressed or preoccupied with something negative. ‘Toast’ was actually really important for me. I wrote that when I really needed to cheer myself up. And it worked. Yes, it was a little bit of an exercise. It was very cathartic to write a song that was not so heavy. Sometimes, it doesn’t all need to be so heavy and that was important to remind myself of.” As a listener, Pinegrove’s music provides a participatory catharsis. The audience at Monty Hall wasn’t voyeuristically waiting and listening to the band to discover their darkest secrets or emotions; the audience wanted show support and empathy by singing along to these introspective yet communicative songs.
Evan’s acoustic set.
How can one carry out their inward emotions to others? “Performance allows an artist to be more spontaneous, which I think is a form of honesty,” as Evan responded to a question about authenticity in Pinegrove’s album and performance. While he does believe that the album gives the most coherent and clear way he can give his message, spontaneity seems to induce an authenticity and trust in his music. This spontaneity and authenticity reflects how he feels about developing relationships, “Friendships and trust take time. And it’s sometimes hard to be vulnerable. And it’s not a priority for everybody. There are a million reasons why someone might not [be vulnerable].” Evan trusts his audience. Pinegrove’s performance seems to be based on this pursuit to be authentic and spontaneous. But Evan still reflects on his own position as a sincere person: “We will, of course, encounter patches of dishonesty and inauthenticity and that is just part of it. My point is, I have encountered a little of that, and that has always made me reflect: Was I being real? Was I being honest? If so, I have nothing to be ashamed about….Maybe, I could refine myself a little bit. Or try next time to be a little bit more courageous or true.” With a gaping mouth scatting along his guitar solo, Evan brings his light-hearted character to the stage. He directs the audience to join him in singing as he steps away from the mic to allow his voice to blend with the crowd. The questions he requested from the audience allowed him to show his willingness to be vulnerable and conversational with these strangers brought together by his music.
At this moment (August 13th), Evan is driving down the East Coast to the rural South playing PInegrove solo sets with Blue Ranger and Sinai Vessel, who are also playing solo sets, in packed sweaty living rooms and basements. But this tour is more than just fucking around in the South: “This is a really fun way for us to meet new people. And also to visit places that we’ve never been to before. I think it is extending on the themes of Cardinal, which are friendship and travel and of communication. Beyond that, we are bringing a Ping-Pong table. That’s just kind of fun. I think that art that sets limits for itself ends up being kind of fun and unexpectedly creative because you need to work around the parameters that you set for yourself.” Along with the music they are making on this tour, Evan and friends are making a documentary to capture the magical connection made by Ping-Pong, music, and people. Ping-Ping is an appropriate sport to supplement this project of communication and travel. The sport takes kinetic communication in order to be fun to play or watch. No one wants to play a game of Ping-Pong in which they are dominated or dominating but they want to volley back and forth. Experiences in Ping-Pong, music, and relationships can vary for a lot people, especially to Evan: “[Friendship] might mean slightly different things to different people, but in general, it means the same thing no matter who you are. And so, I have encountered a lot of diversity in all sorts of ways: where someone is coming from, who someone is, what someone believes. But there are some pretty common points of relation. I’m trying to look for those to start with….Friendships and trust takes time. And it’s sometimes hard to be vulnerable. And it’s not a priority for everybody. There are a million reasons why someone might not.” If Pinegrove is doing anything, it’s bringing these people with these shared emotional experiences and empathies together. Evan has been approached by many who felt kinship in Cardinal with its themes of disconnection and miscommunication. Pinegrove proves to be a shared love for many throughout the United States.
This past summer Pinegrove toured the national geographical opposite of New Jersey during their tour: the Northwest. Cardinal roots itself in the idea of traveling outside of New Jersey but it never stops thinking of the meaning of home. Evan felt fortunate to be able to call Montclair his home. But he pondered what physically reminds him of home in different physical locations: “I really respond to very verdant places, really green places. And I think that’s part of the reason I love the Northwest. Because on the sidewalks, there is this neon moss that crops up in between the cracks: really beautiful flowers and trees. All of that reminds me of Montclair.” For Evan, that shared physicality may be a way to find a way home. To him, telling someone, “hey I really like your work” after a performance isn’t the greatest catalyst for a friendship because it’s still him being someone else after a sweaty exhausting show. Myself, I shook his hand after the show and was flustered by his performance and all I did was stammer about this interview and article, but he was kind enough to accept me. I think that’s where spirit of this band lies: acceptance. We’ve all had these problems with miscommunication or displacement whether in a room or city. Even more, Evan told me on the phone after the interview about his secret solo set down in Montclair that night. He welcomed and accepted me into his home: Montclair and music.
When traversing Montclair, it presented itself as a suburban paradise with its never ending labyrinths of houses with porches and trees. But from the houses and heights you could see the New York City skyline lurking in the background. So I could sense what Pinegrove has been trying struggling to leave behind and move onto as they toured with the music of Cardinal. The 73 See Gallery, where the solo set Evan played took place, presented a home for DIY artists of all kinds. As zines and visual artists laid out their work for all to see, old and new friends. The brick-walled blanketed floorspace provided an intimate atmosphere as the sunlight dwindled away and the yellow christmas lights silhouetted the musicians in a storage space turned makeshift family living room. Alone, playing last, Evan was definitely home. He sat their with his acoustic guitar crooning his introspective songs, but again, he yearned for audience participation with conversation. The best question was “How many tiny bits has it taken you to eat a whole loaf of bread?” In Monty Hall and Montclair, he gave himself to the crowd and they reciprocated. Earlier, over the phone, Evan talked about his home. He said, “There are certain familiar things that for me that signify safety and comfort. Not everyone has the fortune of feeling that way of where they’re from, but I really do. I love Montclair a lot.”
If I learned anything about Pinegrove, the band wants to people to think about their own homes. The music makes me explore a new appreciation for my home. Communication is a difficult task for us all. Sometimes, the feelings we have are ineffable or hard to uncover and expose to the world. But authenticity can only come from direct treatment of those feelings, and friends are people that communicate on the same wavelength as you and show your vulnerability. Great artists like Pinegrove provide us with a sonic home filled with fun, honesty, and empathy.
So go find your home:
Steven Coco