By: Alexander Napoliello
 Jim Fairchild by Janet Weiss |
After former Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr left Modest Mouse to play with rising U.K. rockers The Cribs in January 2009, the band rummaged through their past for a rhythm guitarist who could help carry the substantial load of the indie rock empire built by Isaac Brock and company. Modest Mouse is complex and well versed, integrating various forms of punk, pop, rock, blues, and aspects of folk – so not exactly a simple feat for any guitarist.
Jim Fairchild, who previously played with the band for a short time in 2006, quickly rose to the top of the list. Fairchild was no stranger to the various musical aspects bandleader Isaac Brock, bassist Eric Judy and drummer Jeremiah Green build upon. For 13-years Fairchild played alongside Jason Lytle in Grandaddy, an established indie rock act incorporating elements of folk and electronica into a pop formula. Fairchild’s solo venture, All Smiles, proved he could not only play next to a prominent frontman, but be one as well.
“Isaac [Brock] is a very smart dude. He doesn’t fuck around. He doesn’t bring people into the picture he thinks won’t be able to bring something to it. So within that, there is a real surprising amount of latitude,” Fairchild told JamBase over the phone from his home in San Francisco. “He encourages you to bring your personality to it. That’s a demonstration, first of all, of just how smart he is, what a great musician he is, and what a great sense he has for what is going to be effective in his band.”
Modest Mouse’s lengthy resume began to take shape with the 1997 cult-classic The Lonesome Crowded West, an album full of anger and resentment transcribed through a renegade, punk fashion. Then, 2004′s platinum-selling Good News For People Who Love Bad News proved a more melodic offering with pop hits “Float On” and “Oceans Breathe Salty.” With this album came instant popularity and the beginning of a pop transformation that found Modest Mouse staying true to their roots but suppressing the anguish found in earlier albums. The release of We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank (2007) displayed slight hints of their earlier aggression but largely capitalized on a modern rock undertone featuring sing-along choruses and softer sounds. Created from outtakes of the previous two albums, 2009′s EP No One’s First and You’re Next followed suite, proving just how deep the band’s songwriting cannon goes.
 Jim Fairchild by Scott Dudelson |
Fairchild has the experience to aid in the evolution of Modest Mouse. His solo career and involvement in Granddaddy encompasses similar aspects to Mouse’s more recent refined sound, and his style offers a nice contrast to Marr (who hasn’t officially left the group altogether, as expressed in a chat with Pitchfork last December).
Essentially, Modest Mouse is like a tree. At the roots are Judy and Green, who’ve been there since the beginning and anchor Modest Mouse’s solid foundation. The trunk is Brock, whose creative intuition is the bridge between the roots and the crown of the tree. The water that feeds the growth is the trio’s rugged rise outside Seattle, which became the driving force behind their hard-egged, rough lyrics (the pain and anger embedded in their early albums is reminiscent of Kurt Cobain’s manic, suffering themes). Over time, this tree grew branches, namely second percussionist Joe Plummer and multi-instrumentalist Tom Peloso, which allowed the band to evolve from an aggressive trio to an upbeat indie ensemble. In 2009, Modest Mouse grew another branch as Fairchild was welcomed in with open arms and offered free reign with the material. Although creativity goes hand-in-hand with an artist’s vision, Fairchild was unfamiliar with such congenial group dynamics.
“It got to the point toward the end of Grandaddy where there was no room for anyone’s creativity except for Jason’s, and that became pretty darn frustrating,” says Fairchild. “I don’t think it would be an overstatement to say he just didn’t want any input from anybody. He wanted to play exactly what he had written, exactly the way he had written it.”
“Lack of creative room led to the demise of Grandaddy. That was certainly a part of it, at least on my behalf,” Fairchild continues. “First of all, if people are going to make records they should make them however they want to make them. If Jason wants to sit around and only have himself plan the record, that’s fine. That’s his prerogative. But, I do think that there is strength in groups and I think there is strength in bouncing ideas off of people.”
Continue reading for more on Jim Fairchild…
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You have to stay sharp when you’re doing stuff with [Isaac Brock]. That’s really a big part of the magic of that band; it’s certainly never the same show twice. He might do different lyrics or he might want to do a chord twice; those surprises are a big part of what makes that band so interesting and unique.” -Jim Fairchild on playing in Modest Mouse |
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Photo by: Janet Weiss
Despite Brock being such a powerful force, Modest Mouse’s longevity and rise in popularity stems from a group conscience, the catalyst behind the progression of their sound. Fans from all walks of life can receive what they want depending on which album they choose to explore. Their earlier records offer kicks for a straight edge punk rock kid, while a laid-back stoner can get his musical fix from their latter releases.
 Isaac Brock – Modest Mouse by Michael Jurick |
“Playing with Modest Mouse is a lot more like being a part of nature than it is like being a part of a building or something man made. That’s what’s really fun about it,” says Fairchild. “It’s very haphazard, but there’s a real beauty in that. And there’s a lot of knowledge that’s informing those turns that can be perceived as… well, they are spontaneous.”
Onstage, Modest Mouse is full of loose threads. Brock’s sporadic playing often leads to repeated verses, improvised lyric teases, and deranged mashes of pedal effects and reverb.
“You have to stay sharp when you’re doing stuff with him. That’s really a big part of the magic of that band; it’s certainly never the same show twice. He might do different lyrics or he might want to do a chord twice; those surprises are a big part of what makes that band so interesting and unique,” Fairchild explains. “That’s a really fun thing to be a part of, especially coming out of having played with Grandaddy for so long. We played the songs exactly the same way every night and pretty much tried to recreate them as they exist on the album. That has its place, but at this point in my development as a person, it’s a really fascinating challenge [to be] playing in a situation that’s totally different every night. It’s a really interesting canvas to try to integrate yourself into. You have to really use your sharpest listening skills as much as [your] playing.”
 Jim Fairchild by: Janet Weiss |
In November 2009, Fairchild went on a brief solo tour overseas to promote his sophomore All Smiles full-length, Oh for the Getting and Not Letting Go (get a free download off the album here), as well as his first EP, Fall Never Fell. Currently, he is in the process of writing a new full-length and mixing a second EP. According to Fairchild, the EP will be released sometime in March but there’s no set release date for the full-length. He has also confirmed an appearance at the South By Southwest Festival (SXSW) in Austin this March.
Although it appears Fairchild is the missing piece in Brock’s complex puzzle, he assures JamBase that he is not an official member of Modest Mouse. However, he toured with MM all through 2009, including a short international tour last December in support of No One’s First and You’re Next. “The way Isaac describes it, I was the person that they called. That’s a good position to be in, I guess,” he laughs.
Even though Fairchild enjoys playing with Modest Mouse, All Smiles serves as his creative dumping ground, his mouthpiece to the musical world that allows him complete creative freedom for his musical vision.
He describes finding the perfect sound as “an intuitive thing, in the same way you encounter new people. Sometimes you’re not sure why, but you’re like, ‘That guy is bullshitting me,’ and then you avoid that person. And then sometimes you’re like, ‘I think I can hang out with that guy ’cause he’s not bullshitting me.’ I’ll sit around and tinker with [a song] forever until it just simply feels right and sounds right to sing it – [until] the actual sound of the words or the words themselves seem very true.”
“The world doesn’t need anymore songs necessarily. So, if you’re going to go through the trouble of writing one or making another record, what I try to imagine is, ‘Is this necessary to the world? Does the world need this?’”
Modest Mouse tour dates available here :: All Smiles tour dates available here
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She & Him
The feelbad factor
Light, uplifting comedy has had its day. Give me the bleak, miserable stuff – it suits my crisis better
‘They give birth astride of a grave,” says Pozzo in Waiting For Godot. “The light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.” Close your eyes and picture yourself giving birth astride of a grave. You shiver and moan. Your baby, once you’ve squeezed it out, drops six feet onto the ground. Oh yes, your mother was right. You should have gone private.
Beckett’s magnificent line is an example of feelbad. Feelbad confronts you with the darkness, futility and awfulness of existence, but does it with such imagination, bravado, soul and wit that you find yourself exhilarated. Feelbad is The Smiths, feelgood The Smurfs. I rest my case.
Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York is a feelbad classic. I’ve seen it twice and urge you to do the same. Both times it gave me a mid-life crisis. But that’s a recommendation. I’m 56. A mid-life crisis means I’ll live to 112. It’s a masterpiece of anti-formulaic, genre-busting, unmarketable feelbad art, one that deserves the most off-putting advertising strapline to convey its uncompromising, uningratiating vision. I offer up, in all humility: “Delay your suicide two hours to see this film.”
If you haven’t seen it, look away now, as I’m about to divulge the plot. Here goes: a guy dies. That’s it. And, as the film makes clear, that’s not just the story of the guy in the film, it’s the story of everyone. Everyone dies. That’s the only story there is. Thank you, Charlie Kaufman. Thank you, Sammy Beckett.
En route to the Big D, our hero, a depressed, self-obsessed director and hypochondriac, conceives an epic theatre piece on the subject of (wait for it, wait for it) the brutal awfulness of human life. But he never finishes his theatre piece. Of course he doesn’t. This is feelbad. He just can’t get to the end, what with constant interferences from life itself – which have to be included in the piece – and his own dissatisfaction and decline. Decades pass without his completing his work. The film’s a sort of writer’s blockbuster.
You may have heard that it’s relentlessly bleak. This is not true. Feelbad doesn’t preclude warmth or a sly and delicate humour. (That’s why the ladies love Leonard Cohen.) I’m a professional comedy writer, so feelbad humour is a subject very close to my heart, which, of course, is just a few inches away from my wallet. I make my living supplying amusing stuff for popular consumption. I started my career writing jokes for the Two Ronnies, at a time when likeable, unchallenging, diminutive chaps like Ronnie Corbett and Ernie Wise were the giants of BBC Light Entertainment. You were instructed, when writing comedy, to provide three laughs a page. You were instructed, when performing it, to go out there and make them laugh. In other words, your motivation was to make the audience feel good, with comedy of a kind your maiden aunt would enjoy.
But Light Entertainment has transmuted, over the last three decades, into Heavy Entertainment. Darker it’s got and darker. Basil Fawlty had rage but was still unmistakably farcical and funny. David Brent? There were times when his awfulness was so real you had to cover your eyes. And Brent was nothing compared with the gallery of grotesques in The League of Gentlemen, or the savagery in the collected works of Chris Morris, or the cruelty in Nighty Night. It is as if the smile has been wiped off comedy’s face, to be replaced with an expression that’s darker but somehow more truthful.
We’re supposed, in these difficult times, to be crying out for comfort, for blandness, for kindness, for the smiley love of our mummies. But it doesn’t quite look like that from where I’m sitting. For a start, nobody has a maiden aunt any more. She’s doing unspeakable unmaidenly things with your bi-curious bachelor uncle, in the very living room where the telly’s broadcasting Psychoville. “I’ve done a bad murder,” runs a typical line from this series, now running on BBC2 as part of Thursday’s comedy night. Logically, that means there are good ones.
Feelbad is here to stay. People want bleakness, darkness and depression. They crave unpalatable extremes. Where’s it going to end, you ask. We all know the answer. It’s going to end in death. Enjoy.