This interview with Psychedelic Horseshit originally appeared on Altered Zones last week. Below is the unedited, director’s cut of the conversation, with bonus features and shit:

The ethos of Columbus, OH’s Psychedelic Horseshit is self-evident — write great songs, record with what you have, don’t take yourself too seriously. The band formed concurrently with hometown contemporaries Times New Viking in 2005. It was here where “shitgaze” was born — a form of wall-of-sound pop that utilizes antiquated home recording equipment, resulting in accessible songs washed in grating, treble-heavy production. And like its father genre, shoegaze, the name was intended as a joke. Since then, Psychedelic Horseshit has eschewed the “lo-fi” label, most infamously documented in a 2009 Washington Post feature.

Our conversation proved vastly different than the aforementioned interviewed, as founder Matt Whitehurst was gracious, positive, and pumped on where Psychedelic Horeshit is going. Of course, it helps that, unlike conservative-leaning dailies, Altered Zones can wax on noise bands and how rad Columbus is. Matt spoke with me over the phone about their forthcoming Laced, indie rock peer review, and accepting fellow Ohioan Robert Pollard‘s philosophy of immediately releasing everything one lays to tape.

AZ: My understanding is that shitgaze is attributed to you. Where did it come from?

MW: Kevin from Pink Reason will tell you that he said it and I’ll tell you I said it. We were on tour listening to [our] test pressing and jamming in the car and whoever it was said “aw man, it’s like shitty ass fucking crap shoegaze music” and the other person was like “yeah, shitgaze.” I put it on MySpace, which I thought was funny, and then it turned into whatever.

AZ: Better name than chillwave.

MW: It’s just absurd. If there’s two people in a certain place doing a certain thing, it’s a new genre. I guess genres make everything legitimate in a weird way.

AZ: Well all genre titles I can think of started out as jokes or insults, like punk and shoegaze. So what does that say about labeling music?

MW: [laughs] Yeah, exactly!

AZ: The gritty approach that you and Times New Viking developed made Columbus a sort of epicenter for your trademark sound. What is it about the music community that begets this aesthetic?

MW: I wouldn’t attribute that to us or Times New Viking, at all. I wasn’t aware of this when I started the band, we were just some fucked up kids playing… ya know, we never heard The Clean or anything like that. I hated The Fall when we first started. Times New Viking came to one of our shows and were like ‘oh this is kinda what we’re doing.” We didn’t know each other before so we met up through the music, which was cool and they showed our music to Siltbreeze. After all that happened, they introduced me to all sorts of stuff. And after we started working with Siltbreeze we realized we fit into this lineage in Columbus that started with Mike Rep, Tommy Jay, and Jim Shepard. I wasn’t aware of the city’s history when I started the band. We were just some fucked up kids playing. When we tour, we run into people who can’t believe that I get to walk down the street and see Ron House passing by. I didn’t know any of these dudes, they were just the dudes that worked at the record store. They were very active in starting home recording in the early 70s, the first time you could start it, which is what Times New Viking kinda started again. And then the rest of the bands out there kinda caught wave of that and recorded more lo-fi. Right when that happened, I worried that ‘this is all over.’ It was like punk all over again, but not as punk. It became a fashion thing overnight. I think that’s why we took a break from making actual records. We record EPs here and there to keep being after, but I was kinda sick of lo fi after that whole thing blew up. But yeah, I wouldn’t consider Columbus to be a stomping ground for it.

KB: I wanna talk about the WaPo interview, when you had some choice words for Wavves and other “lo-fi” buzzy acts. Do you still feel that you didn’t get a fair shake as far as bringing attention to the home recording style? Do you still feel the same?

MW: That interview did bad for us, man. It introduced a lot of people to Psychedelic Horseshit, but not in terms of the music, just me running my mouth. I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t give a shit, everyone can do what they want. I felt like that then and it was in the middle of that whole thing that blew up. It was annoying because bands I thought at the time who I thought were getting a lot of attention for a stylistic choice rather than artistic vision. But I’ll be the first to admit, I can’t write a catchy song like Wavves or the other bands I talked about. At the end of the day, it was an entertaining read, but a lot of people who actually liked the bands I mentioned were offended because I offended their taste or something so they wrote us off musically. I don’t think a lot of people have heard Psychedelic Horseshit even though they’ve heard of us. I read it and it’s a different person, but it was like that the first time I read it. I was like ‘holy shit, did that really happen?’ I didn’t know how I felt about it. But it’s an entertaining ass read. The biggest downside, though, is some of the people I mentioned are decent folks and they took things personally but I didn’t really intend it like that. It’s water under the bridge, but that was one of the backlashes, seeing people out that you think are you’re buddies at one point and think you fucking hate them. It’s like ‘no, but I don’t think you got the point.’

KB: I think people in the indie rock community are a little too afraid to speak bluntly and truthfully. But if you’re just patting people on the back all the time, nothing gets better.

MW: Yeah, and that’s one of the points I was making. If everyone thinks they’re doing good job every time, nothing gets better, you’re right. That’s why criticism is there to advance the conversation. I should be able to tell my best friend I think their record fucking sucks if it sucks. Why you rather me lie that it’s wonderful and not mean it? If my friends don’t like my record, I’d want to know that and why.

KB: You can like the person and not like the music.

Nice guys, bad band. N.G.B.B. [laughs]

KB: You all are probably the most raucous band on Fat Cat, considering they put out stuff like Mum and David Grubbs. How did you all get involved?

MW: Dave Howell approached us two years ago about their 12″ split series. I was stoked. I hadn’t heard a lot of their newer stuff, but I checked out their records in high school. I remember them putting out quality, vaguely commercial but also off-kilter stuff. We emailed back and forth and he asked to hear some of the early versions of the songs that ended up on Laced. I was pumped because someone was finally gonna fucking take a chance on us.

KB: Yeah, the new tracks sound great, and it seems there’s more electronics involved, and maybe a bit cleaner and tighter. Is that the result of having some label muscle behind you or a new direction you wanted to pursue?

MW: These songs were written before having a label, going more electronic and stuff. But we were still stuck recording on our 8track machines from the 70s that cost $100 for 30 minutes of tape. Ya know, I’m unemployed, I don’t have money for that shit. Go it was get it as you can – play more shows to get more tape. Over the course of the last few years, I’ve gotten better at mixer. We’re using the same machine, but we didn’t just want to turn it up loud and say ‘that sounds good.’ We wanted to hear texture. I think we’re always into texture and sonics, but with this record, I wanted to hear how they interact with each other than any one instrument or overblowing everything so it’s loud. I tried to mix everything as cleanly as possible and cut loud to CD, but took a conscious effort to not distort anything, where in that past distortion would be a production trick.

KB: What’s the scoop with this new free weekly series you just started called Shitty Sundays?

MW: That is a weekly series we’re doing leading up to the release of Laced. That started as a way to get out some B-sides and older material, and it turned into this thing where me and [bandmate] Ryan [Jewell] are finishing up some sketches of songs and weird stuff we’ve recorded over the last few months since LAced has been done. It’s a way to be immediate with stuff. I like the record a lot, but Laced already feels old to me, even though it’s a new direction. Shitty Sundays is a way to put out stuff that is new and is popping out of our heads. We can record a song today and release it next week, and that’s as immediate as you can get. That’s the way things are headed, ya know.

KB: Yeah, that’s interesting. Bands I’ve recently interviewed, Disappears and Woodsman come to mind specifically, have said “this record we’re promoting is totally old for us and we’re passed it already.” It’s like Robert Pollard already predicted this 20 years ago with the idea of  “put out all your shit as quickly as possible.”

MW: You can’t wait for the records to get pressed. It takes like five months, and we’re almost a different band. I want to be like that every five months, progressing and changing and exploring different areas. If you keep moving, you can go anywhere you want. And the nature of the business is stagnation. I mean, I feel lucky even with a quick five month turnover. I know lots of people, it takes at least a year to come out, or two. I wouldn’t be able to deal with that.

KB: The nature of the industry can almost do a disservice to artists. If you want to have your record promoted and distributed right, it takes six months to a year, but at the same time that’s frustrating to artists.

MW: Back in the day, artist would crank out an album every six months and you didn’t lose anyone’s attention. I could totally put out a record every six months and feel decent about that.

KB: [laughs] I’d feel decent about that, too. Switching gears… Columbus has a killer music scene with you all, Times New Viking, and hip-hop acts like RJD2 and Blueprint…

MW: I just saw Blueprint, and it was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen, really. He had a live bassists on stage, and he’s playing synths, and keytar, and rapping. It was one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time.

KB: Awesome. And that’s my point, it seems there’s this great talent pool there but not a lot of artists have made it to the national stage. Why do you think that is?

MW: I don’t think people think beyond Columbus, honestly. People seem content making the weeklies for their shows. People are tied down a lot more and can’t tour, and you have to do that if you want to take it out of the city. Unless you’re an overnight success, which happens, but it’s a freak thing or really calculated. I don’t know… I don’t think people are trying to get out of their cities. Most people are content with working a job and doing music on the side and putting out records, but not thinking about expanding their fan base or get yourself out there more. But I have a lot of respect for the hip-hop scene here, and the noise scene, too. Sword Heaven is one of the best bands I’ve seen live. It takes you to another place entirely. It seems the whole scene has changed here from the harsher stuff to, like, more ambient stuff. I guess it’s like that everywhere, which is cool because that’s what I’m into. That’s been the shift in noise in general – it’s more soft in tone. All those kids that were doing harsh stuff, their ears just started to hurt.

KB: Right, a lot of the bigger artists doing power electronics, like Wolf Eyes and Kites, haven’t been around a whole lot the past couple of years.

MW: I think that whole scene has shifted, like I said. Maybe they’re all afraid to drop a blessed out ambient record.

KB: Or maybe they’re all settled down with families and shit. American dream.

MW: Yeah, that too.

MP3 :::
Psychedelic Horseshit – French Countryside