Eyes Wide Shut

[June 18th, 2008]

In the summer of 2006, Blind Pilot’s Israel Nebeker (guitar/vocals) and Ryan Dobrowski (drums) decided they needed to write and record “outside of the Portland bubble.” They found their destination in a 25,000-square-foot Astoria warehouse. The pair spent three months there writing, recording demos and painting (Dobrowski did the cover art for the band’s debut full-length, 3 Rounds and a Sound). “This building is, like, in the water,” Nebeker says, leaning on the back bumper of a friend’s broken-down red BMW in a Southeast Portland driveway. “It’s not even a part of the city. Being in that space was like living in a huge fort; we just blasted Neutral Milk Hotel all summer long and played.”

The comfort of the warehouse prompted the curly-haired 28-year-old to perform his most personal songs, ones he never intended to play publicly, for Dobrowski. 3 Rounds’ “Things I Cannot Recall” is one of those. Nebeker doesn’t elaborate on the story, but the song’s lyrics describe an unsanctioned young love with so much personal detail that it’s hard not to be intrigued. “The screen went blue before I touched you and my ride went home/ All the photos came out lonely but we were not alone,” Nebeker sings. Mentions of road trips and family secrets follow, Nebeker’s voice subtly imitating a muted trumpet while describing a clunky sexual encounter: “I was awkward and I could not hear/ Your body through my body’s fear/ We were going to hell.”

Blind Pilot isn’t always this confessional, but Nebeker’s songs occasionally drop diary-style hints that force listeners to construct their own impression of what’s going on. After some prompting, the softspoken Nebeker explains his chosen method of songwriting: “Forget that you’re writing a song that anyone is ever gonna hear,” he says sheepishly. “The only way you get universal is by getting really, really specific, and avoiding universal clichés.” Getting specific works: Sometimes, as on the title track, listening to Nebeker’s songs unravel is like watching a married couple’s desperate fight spill out into the front yard; other times, as on “Oviedo,” it’s like seeing the world shrink away from an airplane window. In both cases, the listener learns to trust Nebeker as an able and compelling narrator.

And though 3 Rounds and a Sound is heavily arranged—from the dancehall-meets-Mexicali horns that kick up dust on “I Buried a Bone” to the sweeping wall of strings on “Go On Say It”—it never feels weighed down. That constructed simplicity brings XO-era Elliott Smith to mind (Nebeker’s emotive phrasing and doubled-up vocals don’t hurt the comparison, either). But where Smith waltzed, Blind Pilot runs, perhaps a testament to the band’s origins as a tight-knit two-piece. Dobrowski’s brushed drumming is integral in accompanying Nebeker’s acoustic guitar, sometimes as a pitter-patter backdrop (“Poor Boy,” “The Bitter End”) and sometimes as punctuation. On “Story I Heard,” Nebeker sings, “Hey Jojo, yeah I know your name/ Thought I saw you, jump the Utah train.” Dobrowski slyly steps up his familiar clackalack percussion, and the listener feels the gravel, steel and speed of the railroad scene.

If travel seems a regular theme on the album, perhaps that’s because it’s an integral part of Nebeker and Dobrowski’s lives. After their stint in Astoria, the two set out for a bicycle tour that took them from Vancouver, B.C., to Mexico. “We didn’t have a single gig booked, but we found one in Vancouver and we were confident [the tour] was gonna go great,” Dobrowski says as a tired-looking party refugee unlocks his own bike nearby. “Then we realized we didn’t even have the proper maps to get out of Vancouver.” While Blind Pilot didn’t quite make it to Mexico (their bikes were stolen in San Francisco, prompting an early return), the 2,000 mile trip—which featured gigs at campgrounds and on street corners as well as at traditional venues—further cemented the pair’s confidence and tightened their playing. Blind Pilot’s planning another bike tour beginning Aug. 16—this time it’s Mexico or bust.

These journeys, like the warehouse summer and the pubescent love story before them, will probably make their way into future songs. But the magic of this band is how seamlessly its stories meld with your own. For that, Astoria deserves a big hand.