Barry Johnson (solo) from Joyce Manor and Frances Quinlan (solo) from Hop Along

Barry Johnson (solo) from Joyce Manor and Frances Quinlan (solo) from Hop Along

Wed · January 13, 2016

Doors: 8:00 pm / Show: 9:00 pm

$15 adv / $17 doors

This event is all ages

Barry Johnson
Barry Johnson
Barry Johnson is the lead vocalist and guitarist for Joyce Manor

Joyce Manor was conceived in the back of a car in the Disneyland parking lot—the kind of beginning California dreams are really made of. It was the fall of 2008 over a bottle of cheap booze when co-founders Barry Johnson (guitar, vocals) and Chase Knobbe (guitar) decided to team up. They formed a power violence band where everyone would have Johnny Thunders-style glam-names … like “Joyce Manor” named after an apartment complex Barry walked past every day. But when longtime friend Andrew Jackson Jihad suddenly asked Barry if his old band wanted to open for their LA show, he scrambled to say yes.

“I was like, ‘We have a new band!’ ‘What’s it called?’ And the first thing I thought of was … ‘Uh, Joyce Manor!’ We didn’t even have a band. But they put it on the flyer.”

So Joyce Manor made their debut as an acoustic two-piece, with Chase and Barry quickly learned that they were really a pop-punk band trapped inside a folk-punk duo—too many songs just demanded bass and drums. “Playing loud is just more fun,” explains Barry.

By the end of 2009, they’d made a new friend in new drummer Kurt Walcher and welcomed old friend Matt Ebert back from Portland to play bass. (“He moved back like, ‘Dude, wanna start a band?’” says Barry. “And I said, ‘Wanna be in THIS band?’”) With their line-up settled, they attacked their songs with new enthusiasm and neurotic precision, discovering their own kind of beauty in simplicity and pursuing heartbroken punk perfection.

Their first self-titled album in 2011 exploded out of nowhere and their second in 2012 landed them on the storied Asian Man Records, home of all of Barry’s first favorite bands. Across these two albums, they discovered what Joyce Manor really sounded like—the speed and sense of melody of fellow South Bay band the Descendents, the artfully bittersweet lyricism of Jawbreaker and the undeniable heart-on-sleeve honesty of the first two Weezer albums. By the close of 2013, they had the experience, the discipline and the inspiration to make one of those rare albums that redefines a young band—Never Hungover Again, on Epitaph Records.

Some of these songs, they’d been working on for years, says Barry. Joyce Manor never demos. They just mercilessly rehearse, chopping and editing and reworking songs until there’s nothing left that lags. (“I just know when it’s right,” says Barry) Guitarist Chase had graduated to a co-writing position with Barry, pouring new ideas and techniques into the songs, and while their first two albums were learn-as-you-go experiences, they started Never Hungover Again with a vision, a budget and two whole weeks to make exactly what they wanted. (That’s a long time in Joyce Manor world.) Friend and Philly producer Joe Reinhardt took the controls in Hollywood’s analog dreamland the Lair. They assigned the final mix to Tony Hoffer—the guy who found the definitive sound Supergrass, Belle and Sebastian, M83 and Phoenix.

Together, they made an album of pop-punk in paradox, right down to the title and photo on the cover. It’s something like believing the impossible, says Barry, or at least the too good to be true: “Those people look wasted—yeah, there will definitely be a hangover! There will be pain!’” (Referring to the cover art). It is ten precisely put-together songs about how things fall apart, with some of the saddest lyrics you’d ever shout along to from the front row.

There are broken homes, drunken nights, faltering relationships and the kind of numbness that makes you want to feel anything at all, even if it hurts. Naturally, there are some Morrissey-esque moments in there—like “In the Army Now” about watching friends grow out of music and move on. Or in “End of the Summer,” which somehow puts a Big Star-style intro in front of Moz-ian vocals and a chorus that’s pure blue-album Weezer. “Heart Tattoo” is a pop-punk stormer (think Lifetime or Dillinger Four) about what really happens when you get a tattoo—“What about the regret?” asks Barry. And “Catalina Fight Song” is maybe Hungover’s definitive song, about hanging out on the cliffs that overlook the Pacific—what locals call the end of the world—and thinking “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

If there’s a feeling to Never Hungover Again, says Barry, it’s a feeling he can’t quite pin down—some complex thing that’s part anger and part sadness. It's the loneliness when you’re surrounded by people and that lostness when everything you’ve wanted seems to be right in front of you. And if there’s a single moment that defines Never Hungover Again, it’s the way “The Jerk” ends with feedback and a chord ringing over Barry’s last shout of “It all goes wrong!”—because despite the confusion and sorrow and resignation, it somehow sounds so right.
Frances Quinlan
Frances Quinlan
Frances Quinlan is a songwriter and frontwoman for Hop Along.

Hop Along has had multiple lives. First conceptualized as a freak-folk solo act by Frances Quinlan, it progressed towards a fuller sound with the addition of Mark Quinlan on drums, Tyler Long on bass and Joe Reinhart (Algernon Cadwallader, Dogs on Acid) on guitar. Emerging as one of music's most unique songwriters, the captivating vignettes Frances has weaved tell vivid stories of desperation and weary awakening. Her powerful voice is a spellbinding entity all it's own, celebratory and raw, and one that can't be shaken away.

Their new album, Painted Shut, (out on May 5, 2015 via Saddle Creek) is their 2nd full-length (preceded by Get Disowned in 2012). However, this release marks their first time creating as a full-formed entity, arranging everything as a group. It was co-produced, recorded and mixed by John Agnello (Kurt Vile, Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, etc.) in the great cities of Philadelphia and Brooklyn, and incidentally finished in the shortest span of time the band has ever made anything.

Like their debut, Painted Shut is a series of accounts, a procession of fleeting and repeating characters. However, it diverges from its predecessor in its close-up, controlled approach (most of the album features the band recording live), and more focused portraiture. Whereas Get Disowned calls forth a dreamy collage of protagonists in a tone that's often anthemic and surreal, Painted Shut is a grounded, less merciful image of many struggling adults (and children) in a severe landscape.

Often depicted in Painted Shut are the two lives of legendary (though generally unknown) musicians, Buddy Bolden and Jackson C. Frank, who were plagued with mental illness until their penniless deaths. Included are accounts of more everyday poverty, abuse, greed; and banal, sub-par behavior. Society is unveiled as a structure that, in reality, was most certainly not built with everyone in mind. Clearly this is difficult subject matter. Yet the songs themselves move unencumbered and easily, forming angular pop anti-anthems, at times jubilant as well as irreverent. Somehow, they are not sad songs. There is joy, in the abandon of Frances' unforgettable voice, in the exulting choruses. One wakes to a sky that is a bright, ageless blue. It's morning and so clear outside that multitudes of lives can be seen, in focus despite the distance. All of this is viewed through a window sealed with cracked paint that cannot be opened on either side. That is how we must often view the lives of others, especially when it comes to people who have lived and gone from this world. That's another story.
Venue Information:
The Chapel
777 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA, 94110
http://www.thechapelsf.com