By Alex Rendon
By Liz Tracy
By David Rolland
By Liz Tracy
By Alex Rendon
By Abel Folgar
By Lee Zimmerman
By David Rolland
On the 2000 album The Moon and Antarctica, Modest Mouse begins with "Third Planet," one of the great songs in recent American rock. Opening with a few solitary chords plucked by guest musician and lap steel guitarist Ben Blankenship, "Third Planet" thrusts the listener into a melancholy world of self-doubt and wandering, a place that feels distant from civilization. Then, just as drummer Jeremiah Green and bassist Eric Judy kick in, lead guitarist Isaac Brock sings, "Everything that keeps me together is falling apart/I've got this thing that I consider my only art of fucking people over," and the music stops for a split second, as if the world were made silent by the revelation.
Brock unveils himself as a young man loitering on the grass with you: "Your heart felt good/It was drippin' pitch and made of wood." Reclining on the grass "naked, shiverin' blue,"a couple looks at the moon above, revealing that there used to be a third person too, perhaps a pregnancy, before the pair is left to its own desperations, its own fading affair. "The universe is shaped exactly like the Earth/If you go straight long enough, you'll end up where you were," Brock sings before suddenly concluding with the same lyric that he began with, having effectively fallen apart. "Third Planet" ends with ambiguity because he doesn't reveal what happened in the song yet manages to instill a sense of completeness, as if whatever happened should be.
Ask Brock what it means and he'll say: "I don't do shit like that. I don't explain things like that." He says this during a phone interview from his home in Portland, but it's the same line he's been giving to journalists for the past several years, ever since Modest Mouse exploded on the indie-rock scene in 1996 with This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About. "It's part of the riddle," he says. "When you get a CD or a book, it's up to you to read into what's going on inside your head, just to make it make sense to you. That's what I want [people to do with] my music."
Modest Mouse has ascended to the top of the heap on the shoulders of Brock's gift for crafting existential journeys such as "Third Planet." The band's history can be neatly summarized through its discography (barring the EP length The Fruit That Ate Itselfand the odds-and-sods collection Sad Sappy Sucker). This Is a Long Driveportrayed their hometown of Issaquah, a rustic suburban community that is about 15 minutes away from Seattle, as a place of loneliness and alienation. The 1997 follow-up, The Lonesome Crowded West, was what Brock now characterizes as a "traveling album" and the inevitable sense of dislocation that comes from being in a successful touring band.
The Moon & Antarcticais the most disturbed of all, a weary, painful rebuke to the legendarily combative Seattle rock scene that was threatening to chew Brock up through vicious rumors -- encompassing everything from accusations of date-rape to allegations that he was just "an ass" who would "fuck you over" -- and ends with him fleeing the Pacific Northwest for the relative solitude of Gainesville. "I made a deal with the devil and things like that," Brock says. He then adds, reassuringly, "I joke! I joke! There's no deal. How can an atheist make a deal with the devil, dude?"
The mythology surrounding Modest Mouse doesn't do justice to the band or its music. First of all, if an hourlong conversation is any indication, Brock is more than a brooding songwriter; he's given to rambling, good-natured tangents. He muses on a trip he made to Miami two years ago to visit his friend Sam Beam, better-known as the critically acclaimed singer-songwriter Iron and Wine. "I played at an art gallery with Iron and Wine," he says. "I bought a Speedo because I was going around asking cops for directions and hanging out at Versace's place. Yeah, hot stuff! Then I thought of all the things I could do with the Speedo that just seemed wrong, because you're pretty much naked, man..."
Then there is The Moon & Antarctica. While restless numbers such as "Third Planet" and "Life Like Weeds" are its standouts, there is a handful of whimsical, funny cuts such as "Tiny City Made of Ashes," another tour song that finds Brock wearing "a T-shirt that says, 'The world is my ashtray. '" The first two albums found the group working through its Built to Spill influence, churning out gobs of edgy, stop-start emo-rock; The Moon & Antarcticaincorporates country-rock and pastoral folk. It's elegiac, more profound than the group's earlier, agitated material. "I'm really into folk music," says Brock, adding that the band is currently recording a song for a Junior Kimbrough tribute album, scheduled for release on Fat Possum Records later this year.
Brock promises that this evolution continues on Modest Mouse's forthcoming album, Good News for People Who Love Bad News, scheduled for release April 10. Unfortunately, his label, Epic Records, isn't sending out any advance copies. "I don't have any idea what's going on," he says, before joking, "I'll be talking to them about that after the interview. I'll be putting on the daddy pants, going, 'Epic! Epic, come here!'