“Ask me anything, even if it’s painful,” Sadie Dupuis sings on her band’s fifth album, “Rabbit Rabbit.” speedy ortiz,
The song was, in part, a message to himself. After more than a decade of writing songs and poetry as well as painting her own album covers, the 35-year-old Dupuis found herself learning more about deep childhood trauma and her own survival mechanisms. Was asking more insistently.
“There were aspects of my past that I was working on for the first time on this record,” she said via video from her pink-walled (long before “Barbie”) home studio in Philadelphia.
Dupuis suggested that the “forced stillness” of the pandemic led her to approach topics she might not have previously chosen for songwriting. As the songs emerged, she thought, “Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I’m about to cry? Why can’t I cry in front of anyone or even myself?”
In “Cry Cry Cry” – one of the boldest songs on the album, with eerie vocals, thumping drums and heavy, distorted guitar riffs – she sings, “Three ways to cry, and one is silence/those tears”. Couldn’t see the meaning.”
An acoustic guitar and a keyboard were nearby when Dupuis was conversing; The closet behind him was filled with effects pedals, he said. She was still wearing the patterned pink jacket and elaborate eye makeup from the photo shoot earlier that day.
For the past decade, Dupuis has been writing songs for Speedy Ortiz that mix enigmatic but resonant lyrics with gleefully asymmetric, guitar-driven rock. The tunes clash with the counter tunes; Songs create confusion; One or two words keep changing as the chorus repeats. The songs are complex yet surprisingly catchy. Dupuis also records as himself as Sad13, pushing synthesizers and giving his songs more pop flare.
Dupuis earned an MFA in poetry and teaches creative writing at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, and has published two books of hard-edged, abstract poetry. He met Sarah Tudzin, the producer of “Rabbit Rabbit” (who records her own songs). illuminati hotties), while she was reading something at a Los Angeles bookstore.
Tudzin said, “He’s just like the ultimate galaxy-brain genius.” “With her writing and guitar playing and production and everything, it’s true art.”
“Rabbit Rabbit”, due out Friday, combines personal reckoning and sonic ambitions. Amidst caressing, dissonant guitar lines and meter-shifting structures, Dupuis sings – obliquely and sometimes plainly – about vulnerability, strength, anger and how to move on. In the closing song of the album, “original author” She tries to find a solution: “I’m tired of anger. How do I let go?
Unexpectedly at first, Dupuis found herself writing about “early family material”, she explained. “I was abused by a member of my family when I was little, and I wasn’t really safe from that,” she said. “My dad knew about it, and he didn’t intervene. He apologized for it, very nearly when he passed away. But it felt like there were more talks to be had.”
She said she didn’t want to think about it at all. “But clearly I needed to work on it, because it was coming up.”
While the record also explores other themes, “I think it’s about how it’s shaped my emotional reactions, my relationship with music,” she said. “And this memory of not being protected as a young man makes me overly protective when I see abuses of power.”
Dupuis’s songwriting developed from a variety of sources. One important assignment, she recalled, was to sing in a children’s choir whose director was “attracted to really weird music”. “I think he really liked the irony of these angelic-looking 12-year-olds singing, making dissonant vocalizations and switching between bizarre time signatures.”
This also happens to describe Speedy Ortiz songs.
Dupuis also imbibed 1990s indie and alternative rock: bands like the Mars Volta, Deftones, Pixies, Pavement, Helium and Throwing Muses, who wrapped complex ideas in squealing arrangements. In line with the community spirit of do-it-yourself punk and indie rock in the 1990s, Dupuis and his band have been activists, helping with unionization, harm reduction addiction treatment, and supplying equipment to prison inmates. Let’s spend time.
Dupuis began composing his own music early on. His mother gave him a drum kit to play in the basement. “I was a very angry 16-year-old girl,” she said. “He thought that if I started playing the drums, it might help.”
She also studied guitar and keyboards, and began posting her home-recorded songs on MySpace when she was in high school. As she began playing, Dupuis often found herself the only girl among male musicians, and, she said, “I dressed like a little punk boy.”
But at a certain point she chose what she laughingly calls “a course overcorrection”—one in which she has recently demonstrated in candy-colored clothes and long acrylic nails, as well as that pink-walled home studio. I have also written songs.
He said, “At some point I felt really bad about only seeing this fixed representation of guitar music.” “If the goal is to separate the guitar from gender or gender presentation, why not really go in the other direction? It felt like a way of assimilating under a gender in which rock music had felt trapped for some time.
There was also a technical advantage to acrylic nails. The plastic fingerstyle guitar plays as loud as a pick. Dupuis has sent male guitar colleagues to a favorite nail salon.
Audrey Zee Whitesides, who plays bass in both the live Sadie13 band and Speedy Ortiz, said, “Sadie is a very driven, creative individual. He really has a vision. She will come to the band with a demo which already has several guitar tracks and bass tracks and drum tracks. The songs are so dense that it’s nice to preview how all the instruments will interact with each other.
The title “Rabbit Rabbit” comes from a ritual Dupuis performs on the first day of every month: saying “Rabbit Rabbit” for good luck. She began writing each song on the album by assigning a colour, wearing that colour, and thinking about which sounds would match it. “Cry, cry, cry,” she said, was red; “crust,” “Don’t talk to me!”, with its slightly shrill tone, was “Deep Purple”.
Dupuis said she has obsessive-compulsive disorder, and when she finds herself immersed in “really, really small details” in a song—whether one should use “a” or “the” in a song The exact settings sound like dialing in programmed drums, where to crank what started as a wrong note in a guitar solo – she pulls out an hourglass filled with pink sand that her mother gave her and herself Only one turn is allowed to decide.
Speedy Ortiz recorded “Rabbit Rabbit” in two evocative studios: in Rancho de la Luna, California, with its vast collection of vintage amps, guitars and effects, and Sonic Ranch in Tornillo, Texas, where Fiona Apple and Bon Iver worked. Recorded.
Tudzin said, “She does a great job of knowing when to touch on trauma and put emotion into it.” “And then it’s a job. As artists, we are all in the field of exposing our conscience and our guts to the world. But when it comes to the studio, there’s a time to be emotional and there’s a time that’s just about repetition and getting the job done and getting the sounds right, which doesn’t always feel like a soulful or emotional experience. .
highly technical music; Hearty result. For Dupuis they are inseparable. He said, “A lot of this record, it’s kind of a worrying double whammy and I’m proud of it.” “The scary thing is I say, ‘Well, where can I possibly go after that?’ You know, it’s my deepest, darkest, most painful thing I’ve expressed. For the sake of the 13-track album.”