So now that summer has come to a close, we’re back in the heart of Chicago – working on finishing the new record. It’s been good looking back because there isn’t much we didn’t do this summer. But we want more.
If the guitar player wakes up in a hotel, spitting blood in an all white bathroom somewhere in Basque country; if the saxophone player is sitting in with Buddy Guy, waiting for his chance to take a solo; if the drummer is keeping a beat in front of a crowd of 7000 people;
if the bass player is drunk, hanging out with Mudhoney, wondering if he’ll still be doing this shit at their age; if JC is mobbed, signing autographs for people who don’t speak English but know the words to his songs,
this is what we’re all thinking…
We aren’t signed to a label. We don’t have big time industry connections. We aren’t playing music that you hear on your favorite pop station. Pitchfork has never heard of us; as much as we might like Yeasayer, we don’t look like we’re in Yeasayer. Every Monday morning we’re still back at our day jobs (if they’ll let us stumble in through the back door). We work our asses off because this has all been so incredibly unlikely. We come from this city where you’re only a measure of your work, so that’s indelibly ingrained. But that’s not why we exist.
This band exists for one reason – You.
You came to the show. You danced your ass off. You bought the shirt. Maybe you made out with the trumpet player, but that’s missing the point. You made a sign that said “Love One Another”. And brought it all the way to Santander. You wrote on our wall. You posted a video. You brought your friends out. You called the radio station. You punched that cab driver in the face. You drove all the way from western PA.
You helped book the show. You gave a DJ the record. You cried when we covered that Otis song. You shook my hand. You gave me a hug. You jumped up and down. You wore the Phillies hat.
You were there at the Hideout back in ‘08. You took us to your favorite record shop. You showed up looking fine for the video shoot. You made out with me next to that church. You sent a booking agent. You drove me to the hospital. You bummed that last smoke after everyone at the club had left and said, “First storm the city. Then take the rest.”
Thank you Dawson City, St. Louis, Winooski, Brooklyn, Philadelphia, Boston, Pittsburgh, Madison, Iowa City, and Detroit. Thank you Espana. Thank you Chicago. For everyone who has believed in this band, we believe in you right back. And believe in this: wait until you see what happens next. – BB