The Signal and Noise

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Hearing the two members of Silian Rail discuss the possibility of ever adding a third person to the band is like listening to a married couple at a swinger party politely refuse an invitation to a threesome.

“That’s the thing,” says guitarist Robyn Landy, “You play with one person for so long that it’s almost weird to think about introducing someone else to it. I think musically there’s obviously a connection that might be hard to find at the same level with someone else.” Drummer Eric Kuhn adds that they’re not “dogmatically a duo.”

We’re in the bowels of a downtown Oakland office building where Landy and Kuhn practice. The overall depth and complexity of their music seem at odds with what appears to be a former office space. Amps and drums rest on newish, springy carpet and whiteboards still hang on the walls. Kuhn rests behind the drums, barefoot as usual, while Landy stands with one of her Rickenbacker guitars slung around her neck.

Being an indie rock, guy-girl duo comes with a lot of baggage these days. Even when the music’s good, the novelty of the arrangement seems to trump the band’s actual output as its most notable quality. On top of that, being an instrumental outfit pushes Silian Rail farther into the novelty realm. Fortunately for them, they are well-connected and have been so far well-received in the Bay Area indie rock scene.

In the five years that the pair have been playing together, they’ve released three full-length albums (Self-Titled in 2007, And I You, To Pieces in 2008 and Parhelion in 2010) and have regularly played bigger and bigger gigs. They have an impressive backlog of press coverage from local blogs and magazines – videos, articles, podcasts, etc. – and received support early on from another local rock duo, Tartufi. Singer/guitarist Lynne Angel of Tartufi was bartending at the San Francisco club El Rio, which she also books, when Silian Rail played their front room. Angel took Kuhn and Landy under her wing and invited them to join the collective Thread Productions.

“We certainly owe a lot to them for helping us find our way in the bay area music scene,” says Kuhn, “getting us connected with other great bands, playing shows with us, encouraging us along the way.”

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While Parhelion is a clear evolution of their sound, it draws on the same cinematic feel of previous albums. Whatever you happen to be doing, no matter how trivial the task – driving, shopping online, working out at the gym – it becomes a pivotal scene in your life-movie, for which this music is the score. Depending on the song, the scene could be redemptive, determined or sadly reflective. Memories flash by in montage as the world seems to drip with drama, everything gets heavy and really means something.

Emo has become a dirty word, but Silian Rail can wear it proudly. I doubt they like, or have even heard of, the bands their sound evokes for me, but based on my musical background they seem to have evolved the urges of bands like Texas Is The Reason and Tristeza into sophisticated reflections with tasteful restraint.

They also mine a similar ore to contemporary acts like Explosions in the Sky and This Will Destroy You, weaving a meditative narrative whose lack of lyrics make the experience deeply internal. The stripped down instrumentation allows them room to play busily without stepping on anyone’s toes, and without seeming excessive or wankerish.

Kuhn and Landy bristle at many comparisons like these being thrown at their music.

“I am always surprised how some reviewers compare us to bands who we really have very little in common with,” says Landy.

Kuhn agrees: “I too find it strange that we get reviewed in relation to/alongside the post rock genre,” he says, “especially because we don’t necessarily relate to that genre. I personally am not even particularly interested in it as a listener. Or in genre at all.”

In person, the pair are sweet, polite and a bit reserved. On stage, their expressive playing bares more of their souls, but a bit of the introspectiveness remains. Landy weaves complex guitar pickings in spastic flourishes while Kuhn embellishes and drives her movements. Landy’s picking is incredibly intricate and quick, she rarely misses a note as she plucks out rapid-fire arpeggios. A loop pedal sometimes adds a second guitar line for her fingers to frolic on. She sways with the music as she rides the muscle memory in her fingers.

Kuhn plays like a surgical machine gun, bashing out precise and devastating beats in controlled spurts. Occasionally he’ll pull out a guitar of his own while his feet still work the kick drum. There are even points that he manages to play a full beat with the hi-hat, snare and kick while still strumming the guitar in between. Not only a cool parlor trick, it compliments the music. On top of all this, he’s working the bass with his other foot via a pedal synth (a la Moog Taurus) next to the drums.

“It’s a Hillwood Foot System,” says Kuhn, “I was actually searching for one. It was a lot of weeding through pedicure products to find another one.”

While they play loud, and parts of the music can get heavy and rocking, their chemistry and inward-facing performance makes watching them a voyeuristic experience – like happening upon a skittish unicorn in the forest. There are no vocals, but the melodies are so well-developed that it feels like there are words, telling you a story with each song.

“It’s funny because you really get a good cross section of responses from people,” says Landy, “Some people are like, ‘Hey, have you ever thought about lyrics, you know, some vocals. It’s just so minimal.’ And some people love it that way and really feel like lyrics and vocals would betray what’s going on.”

The duo’s song titles give a glimpse into how they view the music. Some are self-contained thought poems like, “A Bone in the Riverbed,” or “Quaking Grass.” Some are snack-sized puzzles like, “‘I’ Is Sombody Else,” or “Not the Wind, Not the Flag.” These give an intellectual backdrop for the musical drama, preparing the listener for jams that unfold like M.C. Escher staircases.

That their band name comes from the business card font of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho and the album title Parhelion (a.k.a. sun dog) is the name of a baby-sun effect created by low-flying ice crystals in the atmosphere. This gives you some idea of where Landy and Kuhn are coming from creatively. They are clever, twisted and heartfelt.

So it’s no surprise that they attract bookish rockers. There are no flashy gimmicks on stage and the songs take a while to differentiate and become familiar with. They are rewarding for those with longer attention spans who want to feel like they’re in on something. The reward is realizing how many satisfying compositional ideas and themes are packed into each song.

Most songs are initially written by Landy on her guitar. She develops ideas and structures on her own and then brings them to Kuhn. Kuhn is the opposite, preferring to react to the deliberateness of Landy’s writing and often generating final drum parts on the first run-through.

“I would say I’m a very deliberate player,” says Landy, “I don’t do a lot of jamming improv stuff. The longer we play together the more stuff will come out in practice and become part of the song. But I wouldn’t say we channel. When people say ‘I just channel, it just comes to me,’ it’s like, whatever. It’s a lot of work to me.”

“I’m very exploratory,” says Kuhn, “I like to jam and noodle around a lot.”

It’s this balance that makes Silian Rail what it is.

“The songs are never like one of us comes and is like, ‘This is how this song goes,’” says Kuhn, “But it’s also not like we just walk through the door and are like kksssssshhhh, OK that’s a song.”

Landy and Kuhn were childhood friends, brought together by an entirely different band. Growing up in Durham, North Carolina, Kuhn was 12 and Landy was 13 when they were dating each other’s best friends. Kuhn was playing in a punk band called TnT Pudding for which Landy’s boyfriend was the singer. When those relationships faded, however, so did their own friendship. They parted ways with no reason to think they would ever be close again.

Kuhn attended what he describes as a “hippie-dippy” Quaker school in Durham called Carolina Friends School. It was every music kid’s dream. The campus was tucked away in the woods and Kuhn had nearly constant access to a room filled with musical instruments.

Teachers encouraged him to play as much as he liked, offered him chances to record and exposed him to a wide range of music: “Everything from Prince to Minor Threat to Miles Davis,” says Kuhn. “They were even fairly tolerant when I was primarily interested in playing Nirvana songs at deafening volumes.”

Landy was forced to go the public school route and had a more difficult time.

“I wanted to go to the school Eric went to so bad,” she says, “because it seemed so idyllic and I hated public high school so much. So big, so clique-y, and really difficult for anyone ‘different.’” She was briefly saved by a local charter school that opened later which allowed students to help decide curriculum and hiring decisions. The school only lasted two years before going defunct.

The Raleigh-Durham triangle area where the two grew up has obviously shaped them musically and personally. A lush and fertile wilderness, a supportive arts community and a lot of all-ages shows make a strong cocktail of early musical prowess and enthusiasm. Not surprisingly though, Kuhn has a more glowing opinion of North Carolina and his time there.

“The area I grew up in is incredibly warm, loving, diverse, strange and rich with history,” he says. “And I’ll also say hush puppies, fireflies, thunderstorms and brick. I certainly miss it all the time.”

Landy misses certain things (“The crickets, the mountains, the southern accents, etc.”) but is glad she got out when she did. “For me, it became way too small and claustrophobic of a place and I needed to leave. It’s one of those places that if you let yourself, you could stay there forever, even if you are totally bored and uninspired.”

Ten years after they had last saw each other, Landy moved to the Bay Area and answered a Craigslist ad for an apartment. When she arrived to see the flat she found out the boyfriend of the current tenant was a mutual friend of her and Kuhn, who had also moved to the Bay Area. Landy’s first night in the apartment was a birthday party for Kuhn where they saw each other for the first time since they parted ways.

“He was tall,” Landy recalls.

“I had finished puberty at that point,” Kuhn jokes, “I was just starting when we knew each other I think.”

At the party, before going to sleep, Landy timidly, and perhaps a little drunkenly, asked Kuhn if he might want to play music sometime. Having never heard Landy’s playing, but having been informed by mutual friends that she was a good musician and a bit weird (a plus in his book), he agreed.

Photos: Jim Merithew

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Silian Rail have recently been picked up by a Danish label that will press Parhelion onto vinyl. They also have some acoustic material that they plan to finish and release shortly as a split with electronic musicians James & Evander which will include the first Silian Rail song with vocals on it as spoken word. Parhelion was released by San Francisco label Parks and Records in July. You can catch Silian Rail at the Rickshaw Stop in San Francisco with Shuteye Unison and Carcrashlander on October 13th when they start their west coast tour.