The Dimes drew much inspiration for their first album from Depression-era newspapers found under a Portland floorboard. From left are Ryan Johnston, Pierre Kaiser, Johnny Clay and Jake Rahner.
Courtesy Mathias Ailstock
It was guitarist Pierre Kaiser who first suggested to The Dimes frontman Johnny Clay that he incorporate his enthusiasm for history into his songwriting.
“Pierre’s not very tactful, but I love him for it,” Clay, 29, said last week in a telephone interview from his home in Vancouver, Wash. “But he was like, ‘If you’d write songs about history, it’d be much more interesting than this crap you’ve been bringing to the table.’”
That “crap” (which wasn’t crap at all, actually) was typical indie-pop fare: boys, girls, love, loss and so on. The subject matter fit snugly with The Dimes’ sound, which falls into the same cubbyhole as bands such as The Shins and Death Cab for Cutie.
But Clay was (and is) a major history buff, and he had dabbled in non-fiction songwriting — there was the song based on a true story of a bag of letters that washed ashore, and the song about Texas winning independence from Mexico. It seemed as if there was a torrent of non-fiction songs waiting to rush forth, held back, perhaps, by the dam of what Clay thought indie rock is supposed to sound like.
And it was Kaiser who poked a hole in that dam. By poking a hole in his floor, of course.
While renovating his Portland home last year, Kaiser pulled up a floorboard and found a few Depression-era issues of the now-defunct Portland Journal. The Dimes, who’ll perform a benefit for Crook County’s Americana Project program tonight in Prineville (see “If You Go”), were in the middle of recording their debut album, and Clay ended up at Kaiser’s house that evening.
“I walked in, and he was like, ‘Dude, look what I found!’” Clay said. “I think we spent the first 30 or 40 minutes we were there just looking over these stories.”
The first page Clay saw spawned a bunch of new songs that completely changed the direction of the album, the band and Clay’s songwriting. A story on riots in New York became “New York 1930.” An article about a man who couldn’t pay his bills became “Paul Kern Can’t Sleep.” A woman’s obituary became “Emmy Divine.” A story about a murder trial became “Jersey Kid.”
And the album as a whole became “The Silent Generation,” a collection packed tight with hand claps, memorable melodies and smile-inducing acoustic pop songs that SPIN Magazine called “hooky,” USA Today called “interesting, semi-pastoral ambitious pop,” and respected indie magazine The Big Takeover compared to Brian Wilson, Paul Simon, Peter Gabriel and Guided By Voices’ Tobin Sprout. Thank goodness for those newspapers, eh Johnny?
“It was such a cool night. I went home that night and wrote ‘Paul Kern’ and came back the next morning … and I was like, ‘Guys, I’ve got this new song. Let me know what you think,’” Clay said. “I played it for them, and everybody just flipped out and our focus totally changed. I think we really found ourselves.”
Clay, who makes a living doing computer-related work (but hopes to concentrate full time on music in the near future), is friendly, effusive and a natural storyteller. He’s a multi-instrumentalist, a home-recording geek, and an enormous Beatles fan who can wax poetic about the sonic progression from “Rubber Soul” to “Revolver.”
But most of all, he’s a songwriter growing not only by leaps and bounds but also at light speed. Eight months ago, he explained to the Portland alt-weekly Willamette Week how he can set depressing lyrics to such sunny pop music this way: “From the third-person perspective, you can write a happy song about a guy being executed. I’m the kid on the corner saying, ‘Extra! Extra!’ and trying to sell newspapers.”
Last week, though, he further developed that metaphor while talking about a batch of new songs he’s writing, all centered on the Boston area’s past and present.
“Writing about (non-fiction), at least for me, there’s something really freeing about it,” Clay said. “I don’t know if it’s because you feel like all these details are there and suddenly you become the storyteller. You’re telling the story. You’re not making it up.
“This new group of songs, it’s kind of the same sentiment as (‘The Silent Generation’), except I feel this need to tell them now,” he said. “Not only am I the kid on the corner going ‘Extra! Extra! Read all about it!’ but it’s more than selling newspapers to me now. Now it’s like I’m not just selling the newspaper, I’m selling (characters and stories that are) actually worthy of your respect.”
The Boston songs will likely become The Dimes’ next release. After that, it’s anyone’s guess where Clay’s songwriting will go. Even he seems unsure.
“Theme-styled writing has become, not my calling — that’s so over the top — but (it) makes sense to me,” he said. “It feels natural.”
“(Dimes drummer Jake Rahner) and I joke about it. He thinks I know this stuff is coming up. He’s like, ‘Man, that’s so cool that you thought to do that,’” Clay said. “I’m like, ‘Dude, I’m along for the ride, too.’ I don’t know what I’m going to write about next. Something happens and I’ll go, ‘Yeah, what if I wrote that?’ So I’m excited to see what we come up with next.”
Ben Salmon can be reached at 383-0377 or bsalmon@bendbulletin.com.