Out of tune, but honest. A bit broken, but charming.
I write the songs and sing them with my guitar. Ed plays the bass, JP plays the drums, and Ruben plays the other guitar.
Just a bit ago, someone asked me “who are some of the bands that have informed your writing” and I said this: Paul Westerberg and Charles Bukowski. His books, Westerberg’s records—man, in some really surreal, weirdo world, that’s what I’m chasing. Also, Stephin Merritt said this thing about there being only two types of music that matter—pop and avant garde. That’s always stuck with me.
Look, this thing is the one thing we have that never not feels right. Loud guitars, drunken laughter, hazy sing alongs, and finding something that feels like fixing—maybe that’s enough, you know?
My friend Jonah wrote this thing describing Beach Slang as “part punk, part pop and all catharsis.” I think that’s a really handsome thing to say. And hope, in some good way, it’s at least partially true.
Let’s say it is.
James / Beach Slang