Raising the dead

The second coming of Death From Above 1979

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Not so long ago, in a land called Toronto, two young men met at a Sonic Youth show (or maybe it was in prison, or on a pirate ship, or perhaps on ChristianMingle.com — this part of the story is murky). The lads bonded over a mutual affinity for punk rock and a general lack of employment, and soon they did the only sensible thing two such men could do: They started a band. In five years, those boys signed a record deal, amassed a global following, sold 100,000 copies of their debut album and opened 20 dates for rock gods Nine Inch Nails and Queens of the Stone Age.

Then they quietly, unceremoniously broke up.

It seemed the magic was spent for Canadian punk-rock duo Death From Above 1979, who disbanded in 2006 after releasing only one record, 2004’s much-loved You’re a Women, I’m a Machine. Bassist Jesse Keeler and lead singer/drummer Sebastien Grainger parted ways on ice-cold terms, leaving fans with little hope for more of the band’s raw, bone-rattling, sweatdrenched dance punk. DFA had played nearly 550 shows between 2001 and 2005.

“Before, when we were just perpet ually on tour, there was no other life other than the band,” Keeler told Boulder Weekly in a phone interview. “I mean I tried. We both tried. I couldn’t keep my shit together. Neither could Sebastien.”

Despite the breakup, musical machines they remained. Keeler went on to form electronica project MSTRKRFT with fellow Canuck Alex Puodziukas, while Grainger went on to produce his own solo work — but the ghost of DFA haunted them.

But one fateful day in October 2010, Grainger got a phone call from a former manager offering up the chance to resurrect DFA — a gig at Coachella, the California music festival that has given second life to Bauhaus, Pixies and Pavement. And so it began: Death From Above 1979 rose from the grave, playing festivals and dank dive clubs in Canada, Europe and the U.S., finding time somewhere along the way to lay down a new album.

On Saturday, Nov. 22, DFA will bring the classics and new material from their long-awaited second release, The Physical World, to Boulder’s Fox Theatre.

In 11 tracks, The Physical World brings the same bare-bones punk that DFA fans have craved in the years since the breakup, but with a polished style that comes with age, experience and perspective on their previous work.

“I think that we made more attempt than is apparent to progress,” Grainger says. “I think when we were working on the [new] record we quickly realized the form of the band was so specific that no matter what we do inside that form or through that form, it’s gong to end up sounding like the band. No matter how we may progress as songwriters or artists, or even if we did change, it’s harder to tell because it’s always going to sound like the band because of the way we set up, because of the instruments and the way we play them.”

Beneath the surface, however, The Physical World reveals thoughtful nuances in both Grainger’s songwriting and Keeler’s bass playing.

The track “White is Red” may be the clearest example of the band’s expansion since YAW, IAM. A true ballad, the song tells a dark story of teenage love, mistakes and consequences.

“We didn’t sit down and say, ‘OK, let’s write a ballad,’ but we were open to that idea,” Grainger says. “The whole thing started with Jesse writing the intro, the main bass part, and I just thought it was incredible, and I don’t think 10 years ago he would have played bass chords, and for whatever reason he felt comfortable doing that and it inspired me to write these lyrics that were a real ballad, a real tale, a journey. It started with his openness to writing something beautiful that permitted me to answer back with something a little bit more profound than maybe I’ve done on other Death From Above records.”

Keeler acknowledges that not everyone will pick up the new material the boys have laid down.

“Going into making [the new album] my thought was that we’ll probably lose a lot of fans and make a bunch of other ones,” Keeler says. “I can’t imagine somehow being able to do something everyone would just like. Once you’ve accepted that as reality, that you’re gonna lose people no matter what you do… If you make a record that sounds too much like the one they already like, if you make one that sounds different, they’re like, ‘What happened to this band?’ For us it was more like accepting a bit of a personal challenge.”

Indeed, the entire reunion has been a personal challenge for Keeler and Grainger, with both musicians conceding they have no idea what the future holds for Death From Above 1979.

“I don’t think we remembered how difficult [touring] is, and I’m not complaining, it’s just a reality of playing in a rock band,” Grainger says. “I’m not just talking about logistical stuff like getting around, but playing in the band is really demanding for both of us physically. It takes a huge amount of energy. It’s almost like this revelation: It’s never been easy and it’s not ever going to be easy. So accepting that has been really awesome. It fills you with pride because if we pull it off I go, ‘Fuck. We did it.’ But it’s not easy.

“All of the challenges that we create for ourselves in this band are seemingly insurmountable,” Grainger says with a laugh. “So I don’t know what the future holds because it’s excruciatingly difficult every single day.”

The boys know there’s something enchanting about Death From Above 1979, but Grainger says its difficult for him to say what black magic drives throngs of people to adore two dudes, a bass guitar, a synthesizer and a drum set because he’s so enmeshed in the experience. But he has a hypothesis.

“My theory is because it’s a twopiece band, the audience can put a lot of their own stuff on it because it resembles so many different social dynamics in their own lives: your best friend, your brother, your mom and dad, your wife, your boyfriend. The duo is the perfect relationship, or at least the template for so many relationships in life,” says Grainger. “Also, especially with the breakup and the reunion, people can easily relate to that — it’s like the time they went to camp and made a best friend then went home and never talked to them again. It’s the sort of romance and tragedy of the whole thing.”

Or maybe it’s just the magic of damn good rock ‘n’ roll.

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