The Capitol Years

A conversation with Shai Halperin

(September 2006)

Interview by Adam McKibbin

Photograph by John Hughes

Philadelphia's The Capitol Years have tried on a number of different hats over the course of their discography.  There was the DIY, early Beck-ish charm of Meet Yr Acres, the countrified shuffle of Pussyfootin', and the dare-we-say garage rockin' Jewelry Store [as explained below, this writer missed the boat on their last record, Let Them Drink, which turned up the volume and earned fond reviews from the likes of Pitchfork, Magnet, and a host of others].

On top of all that, they've built a deserved reputation as a live act that brings their A-game.  They're about to set out on the road again to support their newest offering, Dance Away the Terror, which slips some darker undercurrents into their brightly accessible and melodic rock and roll.  Despite the complaints of an anonymous writer in their hometown (more on that later), it may be their finest record to date.

Before embarking on their fall tour, Capitol Years singer/guitarist Shai Halperin chatted about production burnout, song inspiration fromunusual sources, and the unnoticed theme of Dance Away the Terror.

We did an interview back in 2001 for a different publication, so we go way back, but I have to confess that I missed the last record [Let Them Drink] – it went right under my radar.

That’s cool.  Well, a brief synopsis of that one is that it was the most rocked-out one—there was some good stuff on there for sure.

That’s funny, because I read a few reviews that made it sound like a “return to basics,” whatever that meant.

They must have read that in the press release.  I guess it depends on what you mean by “basic.”  We’ve pitched a couple records as the perfect meeting of the live band and the recording band—even though we probably pitched that one that way, it was definitely more of the live version on that.

You do have a sense, then, of what that “core sound” is a live band and what it is as a live band—and they’re separate entities?

I believe so, but I think it comes down to the songs.  We have harmonies on that last record and we still have harmonies live, and all of that.  This one [Dance The Terror Away] has some songs that we can actually listen to in a couple of years and feel good about it.

So you haven’t had that experience in the past?

Well, yeah.  Yes and no.  When we were in that phase of trying to record what we’d been doing on stage very bombastically for a couple of years, we ended up with that, but then just ended up waiting.

Since you handle production yourselves, too, did you burn out on the record for a while and then have to come back to it with fresh ears?

Yeah, depending on the setup, there are definitely moments where you lose your mind a little bit.  It depends on how you’re working.  We recorded in a few different houses and apartments; a lot was done in a small room here in my apartment, and that’s really great in ways, but it’s definitely far from ideal.  I’m thrilled with what came out, but, yeah, during the process…

Is the recording lineup also the touring lineup?

In general, yeah, but for this coming tour, not so much.  We have two guys that won’t be able to tour this time, but we’re touring with a band called National Eye—their last record was on Park the Van and was wonderful—and they also have two guys who can’t tour, so the six of us are going out and sharing band members.  I’ll be playing with them, and they’ll be playing with us.

Do you feel like a veteran act now?

It’s getting to feel that way, sure.  We could change our name and be one of those flavor of the months.  More so in Philadelphia itself; as far as traveling around, you get all sorts of other feelings, good and bad.  It puts a whole different slant on the “veteran” thing when you go out in the middle of Alabama and play a night there.

You’re playing five shows here in the L.A. area, so I guess it’s a little friendlier out here.

We’ve talked about doing that before.  My sister and my brother-in-law, Thom Monahan, moved out there almost two years ago.  Our good friends The Burning Brides moved out there.  So whenever we go through there, there’s a sense of “Oh, you should come here and spend the week, do multiple shows, do some radio.”  We actually pulled that off this time.

I hadn’t heard about the Burning Brides moving out here until I heard that song on your album [“Mirage People”].  I don’t usually ask about lyric interpretation, but is the “mirage” that things are bad musically in Philadelphia, or does “mirage” describe the scene that’s come up?

It’s actually a really specific story, which I suppose we could have laid out in the press release.  There’s a local blog called Philebrity—it’s the best one in town.  Even though Philadelphia is the fifth-largest city, it still has a tight-knit music scene.  One morning some guy wrote an anonymous letter to the Inquirer and a bunch of newspapers, and this blog published it.

He was obviously a disgruntled writer and he was talking about how writers in Philadelphia don’t know what they’re talking about.  He mentioned a range of topics, and he mentioned music—and the only band that he singled out was The Capitol Years.  It read “The Capitol Years are not a good band.  Unchain yourselves, gang.  It’s a shame The Burning Brides skipped town, but let’s hold ourselves to a higher standard.  It’s a mirage, people.”  These are all his words.

I woke up one morning and it was early enough where I had the idea to try to do the song just with his words, to record it and send it back that day as our response.  And that’s what I did.  I was on dial-up at the time, so I didn’t get the song back to the blog until after 3:00, so they ran it the next day.  But, yeah, all those lyrics are this guy writing, and talking about us.  It made for a small local sensation.  After the song came out, there was a nice little buzz going on, and we thought, “Wow, we should put this on the record.”  I wanted to change the lyrics because it was a little awkward to start a song with “The Capitol Years are not a good band.”  Dave, our bass player, said that every one of our songs should start with that lyric. 

Do you see most songs through once you get started with them?  Or is there a big discard file?

There is a big discard file—sometimes having to do with the band, or just time passing.  Sometimes you pull out the old songs and it turns out that they were good songs.

I’ve talked to a lot of quote-unquote “political” bands, and something that definitely struck me about Dance Away the Terror was how it wasn’t a political record, per se, but it’s still deeply affected by politics and current events.  Most albums seem to be either very overt or to pretend that stuff isn’t happening.

Yeah, it certainly wasn’t put out there to be overt.  I’ll be honest, I have been a little bit surprised that a lot of writers have sort of not gotten it, as far as the mood and the theme.  That’s been a little depressing.  But I’m not so surprised that people don’t get it because they probably have to know us as people, and know me as a person.  There is a mood, at least for us, that’s on here, and it’s a little more morose and melancholy, as opposed to overt anger or trying to overthrow the government.