Walkmen tour on ... and on ...

Weary feet: Radio airplay means no rest for the Walkmen

By Mike Prevatt

Walkmen singer/guitarist Hamilton Leithauser is driving through New Mexico and he sounds miserable. While being interrogated, he brings up several times how touring has essentially become tiring and unpleasant. It's gotten to the point now where a day off isn't exactly a day off.

"On tour it's kind of a drag, usually because it means you've got a 900-mile drive," says Leithauser, in the midst of such a journey himself.

For the past year, the profile of the New York-based band has been steadily rising, and while most people are just now being introduced to their second album, Bows and Arrows, and its lead single, "The Rat," the musicians themselves seem bored by it. In fact, had "The Rat" not been added to some of the country's most influential and popular modern rock radio stations, the band might be writing new songs at home, or even visiting museums in the city. Whereas some bands would jump at the chance to score radio exposure and maintain an active tour to support it, the Walkmen are over it already.

"You got to keep touring, which is a pain in the ass," says Leithauser. "We would have been done at the end of the Modest Mouse tour [this summer] if we hadn't been added to KROQ and Chicago and [other] radio stations. That means we have to play their radio-sponsored events. The label's pouring money into getting you on the radio, so they threaten to cut off the money if you don't tour. And you slowly realize that you don't care if they cut the money, and that may be where we are right now."

Truth be told, the Walkmen--whose members emerged in the late '90s after the break-ups of buzz act Jonathan Fire*Eater and another New York act, the Recoys--project a considerable amount of cynicism even with a song like "The Rat," a propulsive tune that combines U2 anthemry with the visceral grit found in New York City's post-punk/late '70s scene. Between guitar surges, Leithauser tones down his Greg Dulli-esque raspy wail and sings, "When I used to go out, I knew everyone I saw/ Now I go out alone if I go out at all." Even when the Walkmen rock out, they exhibit a certain despondency that lends an emotional dynamic to their music.

For the recording of Bows, the band migrated to a farmhouse in upstate New York, and that, too, is recalled negatively. "Well, we didn't get that much done when we were there," says Leithauser. "The only way it really works for us is to take a long time, and we really need to be at home and be able to do it for a few hours every day, or two hours when we have good ideas. When we try to cram like that, it really ends up a lot of wasted effort."

The method has paid off for the band, which won immediate critical kudos upon the February release for Bows. Many admirers hailed the focus and urgency in the music, which wasn't as abundant in the 2002 debut Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone, but to Leithauser, the growth was barely distinguishable.

"[Bows] seemed different because we had these faster songs," he says. "We knew it would be more rockin'. It's a very gradual thing. When we finished the first [album], we just started writing this one. To us, it wasn't two separate times, just one long evolution."

Leithauser complains that it's been a while since the band has had a considerable amount of time to sit still and write songs. For now, it must trudge on, playing live shows throughout the fall season--but not beyond that point. Even if "The Rat" becomes a hit on the radio, the Walkmen have their promotional limits, and when Leithauser expresses them, he's not as flippant as he sounds.

"We can't do it for that much longer," he says. "We have to write new songs for our mental health."