From their two-bedroom house in Western Massachusetts, darkwave band Boy Harsher pushes the boundaries of experimental music. The Florence-based duo, Jae Matthews and Augustus “Gus” Miller, are the most high-profile band in the local DIY scene. With over 500,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, an upcoming global tour and quickly sold-out shows at local venues, Boy Harsher seems about to outgrow the Pioneer Valley.
Since forming in 2013, the band has released three EPs and two full-length albums, and most recently, written, directed and produced “The Runner,” a 40-minute short film with their own original soundtrack. I met with Boy Harsher at The Roost in Northampton to discuss “The Runner,” making music and their life together in the Pioneer Valley.
Disclaimer: This interview has been lightly edited for brevity and clarity.
When you guys sit down to start a project together, what does that look like?
GM: It’s pretty chaotic, normally. “The Runner” wasn’t a normal album at all—it was very much a COVID album. We both weren’t feeling incredibly creative, or motivated, because we write our music for live shows. That’s where we picture the music existing. So having clubs closed changed the meaning of being a band. The songs were kind of different. I had more of these score-y songs, and then more of the poppy songs with vocal features, and we were just looking for a way to tie them all together. That’s where the movie idea came from.
JM: Yeah, I mean it feels tacky to say “pre-COVID,” but a lot of the ideas we’d get pre-COVID would begin with one of us being like, “I really want to do this,” and pushing it until the other gave in. This project is different because we were synchronous in our want to make the film. We thought that the first collection of songs would be a soundtrack for a non-existent film. And so we were coming up with these fantasy ideas for this film. And then we were like, let’s just make it. We can do it, we’re never gonna tour again. And so we did it.
I saw your show at Gateway City Arts, and such a huge part of it was that feedback loop with the audience. That’s very different from releasing a film online or hosting screenings when you’re not there to see how people respond to it. What was that difference like?
JM: We’re in that moment currently. The film was released on January 14th; that’s when the first screenings happened. Then it went up on Shudder on January 16th. And now there are still some screenings, but mostly we’re just pushing people to stream it. Unlike releasing an album and playing the songs live, where you get this really immediate reaction, you’re kinda left in the fog. You’re just like, “Well, I hope people like it.”
GM: It’s like releasing an album without the live show. It’s just looking at reviews and social media. But I think the live show is so important because it gives you that one-on-one connection. I don’t think we love sitting back and having it out there, not really knowing what’s going on. It’s kind of nerve-wracking. It’s so subjective.
You guys do so many different things: the record label, producing the music, producing the film, etc. How do you delegate certain aspects of that and make sure that no one is getting overwhelmed?
Both: Oh, we’re definitely overwhelmed [laughs].
JM: The record label’s funny, because it came out of necessity a couple of years ago. We didn’t get interest from labels whatsoever, and we wanted to continue to have our albums in print. So that’s why we decided to make an imprint. That way we can guarantee that no matter what, Boy Harsher will always be in print, and we’ll always be able to distribute it.
It’s funny, now, because obviously we have interest. But this system has worked out so well for us, it’s like, why would we sacrifice the independence that we’ve gained from this scenario? And logistically, most of that work is delegated to our manager. I would be remiss not to include Marco’s name, especially when talking about Nude Club. He literally is managing every element of it that we would not want to do, and also, would fail miserably at. That would be any form of distro, or production, or mail order. He has a little lair in Berlin. I have no idea how it works, but he handles it. But in terms of every other project that is Boy Harsher-based, we do most of the production, design, creation, and fulfillment. And it definitely destroys us. I don’t know if there’s any way around that.
It’s tough because we love doing it. But we work 15 hours a day for a month straight, on our own product, our own thing. At the end of it, we’re wondering, “Wow, what did I do? Why did I sign up for this?” I’ve created a system where I’ve taught myself to really hate the thing I’m working on.
GM: Wow.
JM: You don’t agree?
GM: I think I’m happy with it, being able to work full-time on our own project and have our hands in everything. I think it’s a great opportunity.
JM: We are incredibly blessed. But I think you are allowed to be constructive and say that things are really hard. It’s not mutually exclusive.
That does seem like a marathon with an intense crash at the end of it. How do you recover from that?
JM: I don’t know. Maybe that’s part of the problem, I don’t know if I’ve discovered how to take a break intentionally. I like disappearing for a couple of days. That’s my vice. COVID has made that pretty hard, but I like taking off and going somewhere weird for a weekend.
What advice would you have for a young person who wanted to get into the music scene?
GM: I think you just surround yourself with it. We started out just booking house shows, and I was making music as a hobby, but it was something I loved. So I started helping other people out with booking shows, shooting music videos, any way I could get my hands in it. Once we were around long enough, we got some openings. I think if you love something and you want to get involved in it, you just need to completely surround yourself with it.
GM: What this area needs is someone throwing more events. I feel like if someone stepped up and started a space, whether DIY or official, and started booking shows and facilitating, that would open a lot of doors.
JM: Gus is originally from Conway, which is right around here. So you had this opportunity to go to a lot more house shows.
GM: I didn’t really go to house shows; I would go to Pearl Street and Iron Horse when I was in high school. It used to be crazy around here. There were so many more concerts.
Do you think that’s an effect of COVID or a trend in general?
GM: Pearl Street has been closed since before COVID. I think in the last ten years, all the Iron Horse stuff has gone downhill. They’re just not booking many shows. And people’s music tastes are so much more diverse. Twenty years ago, it was way more binary. You could just have a few genres, and everyone would fulfill those.
JM: Right, like fulfill the rock, the hiphop. Exactly.
GM: But now people have a much more specific type of music that they listen to. Like, not everyone is gonna go see the Foo Fighters or an indie band. There’s not enough DIY spaces or people doing stuff at the small level.
JM: My experience watching noise music and very experimental stuff is what taught my lizard brain that not only did I like that stuff but that I could participate in it. So I think that’s really important too. We booked this show in Savannah once, with this guy I love, John Manyon, who is a maniac. He played the fan; he had a hand fan, and a microphone, and a delay pedal. That’s it. But you watch it and you’re like, wow, he’s doing so much with so little. Maybe I can do that too. Maybe I want to do that too.
What do you think the next step for experimental or noise music might be?
GM: Speaking of what we were just working on, I feel like movie albums—now shows—are a little bit more uncertain. And now people know what life is like without shows. Having this visual element to an album is something that people want to explore. Now you have this other entity, this other way to perform. Especially because musicians are becoming more multimedia now anyways. You’re not just a band anymore; you’re a designer, you’re a director, you have to do everything. I think there’s all of these musicians who are talented and have the power to expand from music.
That’s a lot of pressure.
GM: Yeah, if that becomes the norm, it would be horrible. You can’t just play music. They’re like, “You also gotta direct this movie.” [Laughs.] No, I don’t think it’s for everyone. And I think that if a thousand bands put out a movie album every year, it would be totally overrun. But for the people out there who are interested in changing it up a little bit, I think audiences will be more receptive to it.
JM: Also maybe more interaction. There have always been these plays with audience engagement, but I feel like there will be more. You’re seeing that now in comedy in a really fun way. The comedian is no longer someone on stage, presenting a show. It’s true engagement.
You two have known each other for a long time. How would you say you’ve seen each other grow as individuals, as individual artists and as a group?
GM: That’s cute. When we first started, Jae had never really played music before. She had a natural talent for singing and writing lyrics, and I think she’s come into that since we started.
JM: I had severe stage fright.
GM: We started out, we’d be playing on the ground. I’d be kneeling down, and Jae was kneeling down, like we wanted no interaction from the audience.
JM: Hiding, yeah.
GM: And now, we play at festivals for thousands of people, on huge stages. Jae can harness that energy and translate it.
JM: It’s so scary, though.
GM: I’m just really impressed with how she’s been able to grow with the project and lead the energy.
JM: Aw, thanks. I think one thing that hasn’t changed, but maybe you’ve gotten even better at it, is this tireless work ethic. I’m like, fuck it, I’m gonna go out and drink with friends or eat some food––I’m just a highly social person. And often I’ll put my work off to the last possible minute. Meanwhile, Gus is like, “No, actually, I’d rather stay home and just play this one note on my synth for four hours and figure out if it’s even worth making a song out of.” That’s a big part of the reason why Boy Harsher is even a thing. Because of Gus’ natural ability to create work.
Maybe you were a little more grubby, though, when I met you in Savannah. Gus never really had a stable living situation. He lived in my attic. He lived in a gallery with a sulfur-water shower.
GM: So I’ve just become more of a gentleman. You’ve “My Fair Lady”-ied me. [Both laugh.]
JM: I don’t know about “My Fair Lady.” But it is true that your immaculate work ethic and drive haven’t changed. If anything, it’s gotten stronger. Really small things make you be like, “Okay, now I’m gonna push harder” where I would’ve given up a long time ago.
GM: Thank you.
JM: He can’t take a compliment, though.
That’s very sweet. How do you communicate and balance being creative and romantic partners?
JM: I think any couple and business partner relationship, anyone within both relationships, will agree that it’s difficult. It’s like “Pet Sematary:” Whatever garden you sow will be the one that flourishes.” I’ve felt there have been times where everything has been about Boy Harsher, and taking care of it and making sure it’s thriving. Those are the times when I feel the furthest away from my romantic relationship. And then vice versa. But I also think that during the times that are vice versa, those are the times when we’re the most free and creative. We did a classic escape where we freaked out when the shows got canceled and were just bummed. We drove straight to Everglade City in Florida. It’s a super isolated town. It was just this fun moment where we were like, “Oh, we really like being around one another.” We were just writing stories together and singing in the car.
Gus, there’s this one point in the film when you’re talking about “getting your hands into the sound.” Can you talk a little bit more about working specifically with synthesizers and what drove you to them?
GM: That was a funny term I came up with out of the blue, but it still resonates with me. Working with electronic music is kind of like working with clay; it’s just this big boy that you have to carve something out of. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a lot of inherent musical talent––I can’t hop on a piano and start writing sonatas or anything like that––but my synthesizer, just playing around with that and finding sounds and tweaking those and having that control, it gave me that satisfaction that I would assume a concert pianist feels. They’re manipulating the music in the way they want.
What do you use?
GM: I use pretty much anything I can get my hands on. The first synth I had was this cheap box, a Roland MC-505. It’s like an all-in-one thing with drum machines, samples, a lot of different synths. I had one of those, and it had a lot of samples of old Roland keyboards––Junos, and SH-101s, all this classic stuff. I think because that was my first synth, I’m really drawn to that Roland-Juno world. Now that I’m able to afford the real equipment, I’m buying Juno equipment.
I have a small studio. It’s an extra bedroom in our house that’s pretty stacked. It’s like wall-to-wall synths. A small, compact space is easier to manipulate and move around in. If you’re in a big, boomy room, you can have the nicest equipment in the world, but it’s gonna sound bad. I’m really comfortable in that space. It’s how we’ve always made music.
What do you love and not love about living in this area?
JM: It’s a hard question to ask in winter, as someone who’s temperature-driven. But I do love that we live in this really quiet, teeny little neighborhood. So I can walk and just completely zone out because there’s no cars that pass. I’m really sensitive to sound, and I get really irritable. But our house is the craziest type of location: two dead ends connected by the world’s smallest street, and we live on that street.
I hate cities, and I don’t think I could ever live in one. It’s overwhelming to me to be in a box and be aware of someone in the box next to me. I love that we are able to experience a very quiet life.
GM: Then I also feel like we get a bit of FOMO.
JM: Oh my God, yeah. Everytime we go to LA, we’re like, wow, you guys can eat dinner after 8 p.m.? On a fucking Monday?
GM: There’s more going on, more connections happening, and I do feel like we are missing out a little bit.
Is there anyone who you would love to collaborate with?
JM: We love to work with friends. I mean, I would love to work with Trent Reznor, but it’s far more fulfilling and comfortable if you’re working with someone you already know. I’d love to work with Tia from Spelling. She’s unbelievably talented. I think she’s maybe the most underrated band right now. Amazing vocals, amazing stage presence, and the way she writes is unmatched.
GM: I always feel on the spot with this question. I feel like whoever I’m saying is next to me, and they’re like, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ work with you.”
JM: That’s maybe a big difference between Gus and me. I’m all about possibilities. Like, I feel like I could ask anybody anything, and the worst that could happen is they’ll say no, and I’ll be pissed at them for the rest of my life.
What’s a piece of media that you’re currently enjoying?
JM: I don’t want to say I’m obsessed with it, because that’s not true. I actually have a lot of disdain for it. But I drive a lot to visit my mother in upstate New York, and I spend a lot of time in the car, so I listen to Crime Junkie. You put it on, and it goes really fast. Sometimes I am really fascinated by how evil people can be. So there are nuggets in every episode where I’m like, Ooh, I want to keep that. But I also think there is something really gross and exploitative about the true crime sensation.
GM: Yeah, but they do it in a positive way. They do help solve crimes. I’ve been pretty drawn to Paul Schrader’s movies recently. I’m trying to watch all of his ’80s and ’90s movies. On VHS or in theaters, wherever I can.
JM: The two ways that are hard to watch any form of media.
GM: I have “Hardcore” on DVD, which is his first movie. I feel like he’s got a very cool, minimal film-making style. His early films feel especially DIY. As an aspiring filmmaker, it’s cool to watch him and see how he pieces together these stories that are very simple on the surface level but very heavy on the inside.
I read a recent interview you did about your film inspirations. Can you talk a little bit about what interests you about the surreal, body horror, or the kind of weirdness of Doucurnau and Lynch?
JM: I feel like we’ve been pegged in our press releases as these horror fanatics. But our interests in the films we love are actually quite specific. I’m really into body horror. “Titane,” Ducournau’s latest film, we were lucky enough to see at Amherst Cinema. It was so fun, like, what a wild fucking ride. But it really started for me with Cronenburg. For me, someone who is super dysmorphic, and whose understanding of my body is completely separate from my ego, I can totally relate to that grotesque transformation. That is a real, visceral way to feel connected.
Gore is maybe kind of tac
From their two-bedroom house in Western Massachusetts, darkwave band Boy Harsher pushes the boundaries of experimental music. The Florence-based duo, Jae Matthews and Augustus “Gus” Miller, are the most high-profile band in the local DIY scene. With over 500,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, an upcoming global tour and quickly sold-out shows at local venues, Boy Harsher seems about to outgrow the Pioneer Valley.
Since forming in 2013, the band has released three EPs and two full-length albums, and most recently, written, directed and produced “The Runner,” a 40-minute short film with their own original soundtrack. I met with Boy Harsher at The Roost in Northampton to discuss “The Runner,” making music and their life together in the Pioneer Valley.
Disclaimer: This interview has been lightly edited for brevity and clarity.
When you guys sit down to start a project together, what does that look like?
GM: It’s pretty chaotic, normally. “The Runner” wasn’t a normal album at all—it was very much a COVID album. We both weren’t feeling incredibly creative, or motivated, because we write our music for live shows. That’s where we picture the music existing. So having clubs closed changed the meaning of being a band. The songs were kind of different. I had more of these score-y songs, and then more of the poppy songs with vocal features, and we were just looking for a way to tie them all together. That’s where the movie idea came from.
JM: Yeah, I mean it feels tacky to say “pre-COVID,” but a lot of the ideas we’d get pre-COVID would begin with one of us being like, “I really want to do this,” and pushing it until the other gave in. This project is different because we were synchronous in our want to make the film. We thought that the first collection of songs would be a soundtrack for a non-existent film. And so we were coming up with these fantasy ideas for this film. And then we were like, let’s just make it. We can do it, we’re never gonna tour again. And so we did it.
I saw your show at Gateway City Arts, and such a huge part of it was that feedback loop with the audience. That’s very different from releasing a film online or hosting screenings when you’re not there to see how people respond to it. What was that difference like?
JM: We’re in that moment currently. The film was released on January 14th; that’s when the first screenings happened. Then it went up on Shudder on January 16th. And now there are still some screenings, but mostly we’re just pushing people to stream it. Unlike releasing an album and playing the songs live, where you get this really immediate reaction, you’re kinda left in the fog. You’re just like, “Well, I hope people like it.”
GM: It’s like releasing an album without the live show. It’s just looking at reviews and social media. But I think the live show is so important because it gives you that one-on-one connection. I don’t think we love sitting back and having it out there, not really knowing what’s going on. It’s kind of nerve-wracking. It’s so subjective.
You guys do so many different things: the record label, producing the music, producing the film, etc. How do you delegate certain aspects of that and make sure that no one is getting overwhelmed?
Both: Oh, we’re definitely overwhelmed [laughs].
JM: The record label’s funny, because it came out of necessity a couple of years ago. We didn’t get interest from labels whatsoever, and we wanted to continue to have our albums in print. So that’s why we decided to make an imprint. That way we can guarantee that no matter what, Boy Harsher will always be in print, and we’ll always be able to distribute it.
It’s funny, now, because obviously we have interest. But this system has worked out so well for us, it’s like, why would we sacrifice the independence that we’ve gained from this scenario? And logistically, most of that work is delegated to our manager. I would be remiss not to include Marco’s name, especially when talking about Nude Club. He literally is managing every element of it that we would not want to do, and also, would fail miserably at. That would be any form of distro, or production, or mail order. He has a little lair in Berlin. I have no idea how it works, but he handles it. But in terms of every other project that is Boy Harsher-based, we do most of the production, design, creation, and fulfillment. And it definitely destroys us. I don’t know if there’s any way around that.
It’s tough because we love doing it. But we work 15 hours a day for a month straight, on our own product, our own thing. At the end of it, we’re wondering, “Wow, what did I do? Why did I sign up for this?” I’ve created a system where I’ve taught myself to really hate the thing I’m working on.
GM: Wow.
JM: You don’t agree?
GM: I think I’m happy with it, being able to work full-time on our own project and have our hands in everything. I think it’s a great opportunity.
JM: We are incredibly blessed. But I think you are allowed to be constructive and say that things are really hard. It’s not mutually exclusive.
That does seem like a marathon with an intense crash at the end of it. How do you recover from that?
JM: I don’t know. Maybe that’s part of the problem, I don’t know if I’ve discovered how to take a break intentionally. I like disappearing for a couple of days. That’s my vice. COVID has made that pretty hard, but I like taking off and going somewhere weird for a weekend.
What advice would you have for a young person who wanted to get into the music scene?
GM: I think you just surround yourself with it. We started out just booking house shows, and I was making music as a hobby, but it was something I loved. So I started helping other people out with booking shows, shooting music videos, any way I could get my hands in it. Once we were around long enough, we got some openings. I think if you love something and you want to get involved in it, you just need to completely surround yourself with it.
GM: What this area needs is someone throwing more events. I feel like if someone stepped up and started a space, whether DIY or official, and started booking shows and facilitating, that would open a lot of doors.
JM: Gus is originally from Conway, which is right around here. So you had this opportunity to go to a lot more house shows.
GM: I didn’t really go to house shows; I would go to Pearl Street and Iron Horse when I was in high school. It used to be crazy around here. There were so many more concerts.
Do you think that’s an effect of COVID or a trend in general?
GM: Pearl Street has been closed since before COVID. I think in the last ten years, all the Iron Horse stuff has gone downhill. They’re just not booking many shows. And people’s music tastes are so much more diverse. Twenty years ago, it was way more binary. You could just have a few genres, and everyone would fulfill those.
JM: Right, like fulfill the rock, the hiphop. Exactly.
GM: But now people have a much more specific type of music that they listen to. Like, not everyone is gonna go see the Foo Fighters or an indie band. There’s not enough DIY spaces or people doing stuff at the small level.
JM: My experience watching noise music and very experimental stuff is what taught my lizard brain that not only did I like that stuff but that I could participate in it. So I think that’s really important too. We booked this show in Savannah once, with this guy I love, John Manyon, who is a maniac. He played the fan; he had a hand fan, and a microphone, and a delay pedal. That’s it. But you watch it and you’re like, wow, he’s doing so much with so little. Maybe I can do that too. Maybe I want to do that too.
What do you think the next step for experimental or noise music might be?
GM: Speaking of what we were just working on, I feel like movie albums—now shows—are a little bit more uncertain. And now people know what life is like without shows. Having this visual element to an album is something that people want to explore. Now you have this other entity, this other way to perform. Especially because musicians are becoming more multimedia now anyways. You’re not just a band anymore; you’re a designer, you’re a director, you have to do everything. I think there’s all of these musicians who are talented and have the power to expand from music.
That’s a lot of pressure.
GM: Yeah, if that becomes the norm, it would be horrible. You can’t just play music. They’re like, “You also gotta direct this movie.” [Laughs.] No, I don’t think it’s for everyone. And I think that if a thousand bands put out a movie album every year, it would be totally overrun. But for the people out there who are interested in changing it up a little bit, I think audiences will be more receptive to it.
JM: Also maybe more interaction. There have always been these plays with audience engagement, but I feel like there will be more. You’re seeing that now in comedy in a really fun way. The comedian is no longer someone on stage, presenting a show. It’s true engagement.
You two have known each other for a long time. How would you say you’ve seen each other grow as individuals, as individual artists and as a group?
GM: That’s cute. When we first started, Jae had never really played music before. She had a natural talent for singing and writing lyrics, and I think she’s come into that since we started.
JM: I had severe stage fright.
GM: We started out, we’d be playing on the ground. I’d be kneeling down, and Jae was kneeling down, like we wanted no interaction from the audience.
JM: Hiding, yeah.
GM: And now, we play at festivals for thousands of people, on huge stages. Jae can harness that energy and translate it.
JM: It’s so scary, though.
GM: I’m just really impressed with how she’s been able to grow with the project and lead the energy.
JM: Aw, thanks. I think one thing that hasn’t changed, but maybe you’ve gotten even better at it, is this tireless work ethic. I’m like, fuck it, I’m gonna go out and drink with friends or eat some food––I’m just a highly social person. And often I’ll put my work off to the last possible minute. Meanwhile, Gus is like, “No, actually, I’d rather stay home and just play this one note on my synth for four hours and figure out if it’s even worth making a song out of.” That’s a big part of the reason why Boy Harsher is even a thing. Because of Gus’ natural ability to create work.
Maybe you were a little more grubby, though, when I met you in Savannah. Gus never really had a stable living situation. He lived in my attic. He lived in a gallery with a sulfur-water shower.
GM: So I’ve just become more of a gentleman. You’ve “My Fair Lady”-ied me. [Both laugh.]
JM: I don’t know about “My Fair Lady.” But it is true that your immaculate work ethic and drive haven’t changed. If anything, it’s gotten stronger. Really small things make you be like, “Okay, now I’m gonna push harder” where I would’ve given up a long time ago.
GM: Thank you.
JM: He can’t take a compliment, though.
That’s very sweet. How do you communicate and balance being creative and romantic partners?
JM: I think any couple and business partner relationship, anyone within both relationships, will agree that it’s difficult. It’s like “Pet Sematary:” Whatever garden you sow will be the one that flourishes.” I’ve felt there have been times where everything has been about Boy Harsher, and taking care of it and making sure it’s thriving. Those are the times when I feel the furthest away from my romantic relationship. And then vice versa. But I also think that during the times that are vice versa, those are the times when we’re the most free and creative. We did a classic escape where we freaked out when the shows got canceled and were just bummed. We drove straight to Everglade City in Florida. It’s a super isolated town. It was just this fun moment where we were like, “Oh, we really like being around one another.” We were just writing stories together and singing in the car.
Gus, there’s this one point in the film when you’re talking about “getting your hands into the sound.” Can you talk a little bit more about working specifically with synthesizers and what drove you to them?
GM: That was a funny term I came up with out of the blue, but it still resonates with me. Working with electronic music is kind of like working with clay; it’s just this big boy that you have to carve something out of. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a lot of inherent musical talent––I can’t hop on a piano and start writing sonatas or anything like that––but my synthesizer, just playing around with that and finding sounds and tweaking those and having that control, it gave me that satisfaction that I would assume a concert pianist feels. They’re manipulating the music in the way they want.
What do you use?
GM: I use pretty much anything I can get my hands on. The first synth I had was this cheap box, a Roland MC-505. It’s like an all-in-one thing with drum machines, samples, a lot of different synths. I had one of those, and it had a lot of samples of old Roland keyboards––Junos, and SH-101s, all this classic stuff. I think because that was my first synth, I’m really drawn to that Roland-Juno world. Now that I’m able to afford the real equipment, I’m buying Juno equipment.
I have a small studio. It’s an extra bedroom in our house that’s pretty stacked. It’s like wall-to-wall synths. A small, compact space is easier to manipulate and move around in. If you’re in a big, boomy room, you can have the nicest equipment in the world, but it’s gonna sound bad. I’m really comfortable in that space. It’s how we’ve always made music.
What do you love and not love about living in this area?
JM: It’s a hard question to ask in winter, as someone who’s temperature-driven. But I do love that we live in this really quiet, teeny little neighborhood. So I can walk and just completely zone out because there’s no cars that pass. I’m really sensitive to sound, and I get really irritable. But our house is the craziest type of location: two dead ends connected by the world’s smallest street, and we live on that street.
I hate cities, and I don’t think I could ever live in one. It’s overwhelming to me to be in a box and be aware of someone in the box next to me. I love that we are able to experience a very quiet life.
GM: Then I also feel like we get a bit of FOMO.
JM: Oh my God, yeah. Everytime we go to LA, we’re like, wow, you guys can eat dinner after 8 p.m.? On a fucking Monday?
GM: There’s more going on, more connections happening, and I do feel like we are missing out a little bit.
Is there anyone who you would love to collaborate with?
JM: We love to work with friends. I mean, I would love to work with Trent Reznor, but it’s far more fulfilling and comfortable if you’re working with someone you already know. I’d love to work with Tia from Spelling. She’s unbelievably talented. I think she’s maybe the most underrated band right now. Amazing vocals, amazing stage presence, and the way she writes is unmatched.
GM: I always feel on the spot with this question. I feel like whoever I’m saying is next to me, and they’re like, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ work with you.”
JM: That’s maybe a big difference between Gus and me. I’m all about possibilities. Like, I feel like I could ask anybody anything, and the worst that could happen is they’ll say no, and I’ll be pissed at them for the rest of my life.
What’s a piece of media that you’re currently enjoying?
JM: I don’t want to say I’m obsessed with it, because that’s not true. I actually have a lot of disdain for it. But I drive a lot to visit my mother in upstate New York, and I spend a lot of time in the car, so I listen to Crime Junkie. You put it on, and it goes really fast. Sometimes I am really fascinated by how evil people can be. So there are nuggets in every episode where I’m like, Ooh, I want to keep that. But I also think there is something really gross and exploitative about the true crime sensation.
GM: Yeah, but they do it in a positive way. They do help solve crimes. I’ve been pretty drawn to Paul Schrader’s movies recently. I’m trying to watch all of his ’80s and ’90s movies. On VHS or in theaters, wherever I can.
JM: The two ways that are hard to watch any form of media.
GM: I have “Hardcore” on DVD, which is his first movie. I feel like he’s got a very cool, minimal film-making style. His early films feel especially DIY. As an aspiring filmmaker, it’s cool to watch him and see how he pieces together these stories that are very simple on the surface level but very heavy on the inside.
I read a recent interview you did about your film inspirations. Can you talk a little bit about what interests you about the surreal, body horror, or the kind of weirdness of Doucurnau and Lynch?
JM: I feel like we’ve been pegged in our press releases as these horror fanatics. But our interests in the films we love are actually quite specific. I’m really into body horror. “Titane,” Ducournau’s latest film, we were lucky enough to see at Amherst Cinema. It was so fun, like, what a wild fucking ride. But it really started for me with Cronenburg. For me, someone who is super dysmorphic, and whose understanding of my body is completely separate from my ego, I can totally relate to that grotesque transformation. That is a real, visceral way to feel connected.
Gore is maybe kind of tacky, but I think that’s what I’m always channeling in my writing. It’s one sincere way to demonstrate connection or physicality, through physical trauma. But outside of the body horror, which I think will forever be a part of what I make and what I write, I’m also deeply invested in thrillers and neo-noir. They feel like the most relatable and also the most fun to put yourself into. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like throwing on some ominous synth music and then driving at nighttime. You’re doing that because you’re pretending you are running away from someone or you’re chasing something. You’re inserting yourself into your own narrative. I will always have the desire to create those mysteries.
Which spots around Northampton do you like to go to?
JM: We only go to one restaurant around here, and it’s Joe’s. It’s the best. There aren’t many options, but Joe’s is beloved.
GM: Miss Flo’s diner, also. You can rely on them. It’s a real steady place for eggs.
JM: Except on Wednesdays.
GM: It’s a real thing I appreciate. Every other place around here is closed on a Sunday or Monday. But they’re like, no, Wednesdays.
Would you consider playing a show at Smith?
GM: Maybe. Playing college shows is basically like being a quesadilla bar. Students wander by in their pajamas and stop for a couple minutes on their way somewhere else.
ky, but I think that’s what I’m always channeling in my writing. It’s one sincere way to demonstrate connection or physicality, through physical trauma. But outside of the body horror, which I think will forever be a part of what I make and what I write, I’m also deeply invested in thrillers and neo-noir. They feel like the most relatable and also the most fun to put yourself into. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like throwing on some ominous synth music and then driving at nighttime. You’re doing that because you’re pretending you are running away from someone or you’re chasing something. You’re inserting yourself into your own narrative. I will always have the desire to create those mysteries.
Which spots around Northampton do you like to go to?
JM: We only go to one restaurant around here, and it’s Joe’s. It’s the best. There aren’t many options, but Joe’s is beloved.
GM: Miss Flo’s diner, also. You can rely on them. It’s a real steady place for eggs.
JM: Except on Wednesdays.
GM: It’s a real thing I appreciate. Every other place around here is closed on a Sunday or Monday. But they’re like, no, Wednesdays.
Would you consider playing a show at Smith?
GM: Maybe. Playing college shows is basically like being a quesadilla bar. Students wander by in their pajamas and stop for a couple minutes on their way somewhere else.
