JV: Something about being on the road so extensively — especially, I imagine, as an instrumental art rock band — is getting in front of audiences outside of one’s comfort zone, and getting a fresh and genuine reaction. That seems to happen with the “class is in session” moment from the gig at Liberty, Maine. What exactly is going on there and what made you decide to preserve that moment for the recording?
MCO: Isn’t that moment a hoot? We were so lucky that guy was standing close to the zoom recorder, so that interaction got captured with such endearing clarity. I’m not sure who he was, but he was really moved by the show and made it known to all. He came up to me afterwards and was similarly effusive. Our music is quite accessible even though it may not be the kind of thing many people are accustomed to seeing. All I know is it’s the kind of music I would have been ecstatic to stumble on going to shows when I was younger. I didn’t grow up in a major metropolis, so I was late to hearing a lot of outsider music. Now given the chance, I try to emphasize playing smaller towns like Liberty.
I will add– Liberty was one of the best shows we played on that tour. The midcoast Maine music community is thriving due to the out-of-control cost of living in Portland. Now many of the cool people that used to make things happen in Portland are setting down roots further up the coast. These smaller scenes are of vital importance, and I will continue to prioritize playing in these places. Closer to home in Philly, we just played a phenomenal show at the Soft Machine Gallery in Allentown. I felt similarly to that Liberty show. The reason the show was special was due to the hard work and open hearts of the organizers and the community in attendance.
JV: For songs without words, Hour’s music has some of the most evocative song titles I’ve seen. How does it work creatively — is the music a reflection on the themes the titles allude to, or are pieces given names after they’re finished?
MCO: The music always comes first. I regularly collect titles though, sometimes from books and movies, sometimes overheard from conversations or phrases. The title that most people latch onto, “At the bar where you literally saved me from fatal heartbreak,” was verbatim a text message my friend Andres sent me. I care a lot about words and language, but I know that my ability to communicate deep nuance lies in music first. When I’m composing, I can touch upon emotions I often lack words for. That ability is a precious gift that I take very seriously. Assigning words to the emotions embedded in this music is inherently fraught since those words will never be the feelings themselves. I have to accept my limitations with language and use titles that intentionally only reveal part of the story I’m trying to tell. Hopefully what is disclosed is interesting enough to make someone want to listen and discover more.