In an era in which bands seem purpose-built to please a particular audience, it’s nice to come across Dodos, an acoustic duo whose stripped-down guitar/drums portability has played into their performative model: will play anywhere, for anyone. Since forming in San Francisco in 2006, frontman Meric Long and percussionist Logan Kroeber have clocked up a mighty tally of miles, tripping across North America numerous times. After the acclaim that's greeted their first album-proper, 2008's Visiter, Dodos' foreseeable future will be spent on tour. Caught on a rare day off in New York City, Long filled in the background behind Dodos.
So, how’s life on the road?
“I’m starting to realise how much my lifestyle depends on the hospitality and the care of others. It’s weighing heavier on my conscience, to the point where it feels like it’s going to have to reverse. I’m going to have to stop being so a burden on others. I know that, now, when people ask me for a place to stay, my first answer is always ‘yes!’”
When you were a kid growing up, did you yearn to be the musician?
“It was kind of in the back of my head that I always wanted to do it, but I didn’t want to talk about it too much, or even admit it. Because the possibility of failure is so imminent in the music business. But, ever since I got my first guitar when I was 13 or 14, in the eighth grade, it’s been in my life. That was the first instrument I had ever taught myself, was mine to figure out.”
Were their particular guitarists who helped you figure it out?
“There was a lot of key individuals in my musical progression, at various times. In the beginning, when I first started writing songs, people who I played in bands with were really influential on me.”
Moreso than records?
“I was never the kid who collected a lot of records, went out and bought records. I listened to things my older sibling had ‘handed down’ to me, but it never went beyond that.”
Why so?
“I distinctly remember picking up my uncle’s ukulele, probably when I was seven or eight, and trying to write a song. I remember connecting with that feeling: ‘how can I make a song come from this?’ The idea of writing songs always resonated with me, the idea of learning other people’s songs was never of interest. Figuring stuff out on my own has been my main enjoyment.”
Does Dodos have a ‘figuring things out’ quality to it?
“Yes. Totally. The main inspiration for the band came out of how to fingerpick acoustic guitar. Figuring that out, in my room, generating this sound in my head, which was: how can I take the sound of the acoustic guitar and make it into a band? Like, how can I pluck each string in a style that sounds like a drum to me? I wanted to take that and make it happen, then multiply it. So I started looking for a drummer who could mimic the rhythms of the guitar, and who could play with the same kind of acoustic, percussive quality you get out of wood instruments.”
So you conceived it as a two-human unit?
“That was a little more practical. But I had spent time in bands that were four or five people, and I was sick of that. After being in unsatisfying bands, I picked up an acoustic guitar and started performing by myself, not because that’s what I desperately wanted to do, I just wanted to maximise all that I had. I wanted any elements that I added to that to be added out of necessity. And Logan and I have accomplished so much by ourselves, the need for more people hasn’t been so great, thus far.”
And Dodos was born as live band, not recording project?
“The main ambition at first was to play as many liveshows as possible. I think it’s important to see us in a live setting, because it’s really visceral. It’s important to see how the sound’s being produced. There’s no keyboards, we’re not triggering anything.”
Does that physicality mean you can easily connect with people? That they don’t have to, say, ‘know your record’ to ‘get’ what you’re doing?
“We’ve recently been touring through the Northern part of the States: Montana, North Dakota, Idaho. Y’know, these more rural, barren states where they don’t get a lot of music, and they certainly don’t get a lot of up-and-coming bands or whatever. And we played on the fourth of July in an old cowboy barn, and we played at this big festival downtown in Boise, a town not exactly renowned for its underground music scene. But the reaction was really amazing. It was awesome playing for an audience that ranged from little kids to older adults. I think if we were a certain kind of band people like that would write us off. But we’re not some young, loud, well-dressed rockband, so people were more welcoming. The most surprising thing about the positive reaction from people has been the variance in age groups.”
Plenty of musicians from cosmopolitan US cities have told me that going to rural America can feel more alienating than playing in, say, Berlin.
“It can be pretty intense. But, we kind of started out that way. When we did our first tour, we didn’t have a label, the only thing we had was a booker who was adamant about getting us out on the road. She was able to book us in whatever cities there were; we played places in the rural South we never thought we’d go to in our lives. It’s been inspiring to see how many people ‘get it.'”
You didn’t feel like what you were doing had wide-ranging appeal?
“My only hope and theory with that is: everyone loves drums. Big, heavy drums are like the pathway to anybody’s guts. Even though drum-circles have a bad rap, there’s something really primal and universal about drums, and I feel like that’s the gateway through which we can appeal to a lot of different people. However, I totally did not expect old people and kids to be into it as much as they are.”
