At 18, I scrawled out a rambling Google Doc about The Drums after watching an interview with Jonny Pierce on YouTube five years ago. He spoke about vulnerability, self-discovery, and moving forward, all as the band was on the cusp of releasing Encyclopedia and preparing Brutalism. Those albums marked a pivotal shift for Pierce and that interview did the same for me, in a way that shifted my worldview.
I spend a lot of time watching band interviews in an attempt to understand the people behind the music and develop an affinity with the band themselves. Music has always been my first introduction to art, and such interviews allow you to pick at an artist's brain. The moments of raw honesty in Pierce’s conversation resonated deeply with me as he reflected on how he was trying to be more connected with people and the many facets and double-edged sword of sadness.
The 36-minute video peeled back on Pierce’s childhood and the band’s growth over the years. He admits that pain is romanticized and idealized as an artist and the guy has obviously undergone extensive introspection in every nook and cranny of his life. As he advised not to do everything and to have faith in oneself, it grounded something deep in me. Pierce continued to speak about the interplay of sadness and joy, the bittersweet truth that they often feed each other. His openness made me see that I needed to embrace these emotions, something I hadn’t done or was ever aware of how to do. I was usually reserved, almost stoic, but his words unlocked something in me to finally dive into those feelings, to let them in fully. I have always been fully aware of how I feel, but never really learned how to experience their full force. Perhaps I needed to hear someone be fully honest with themselves before I could with myself.
The Drum’s music has taught me much about vulnerability and joy — it’s also rooted in how their music sounds like — a bliss out to heavy-hearted lyrics. And when you’re 18, you think you know it all when in reality it’s only the start, the beginning of grasping growing pains.
Five years on, with a touch more life under my belt and a steadier footing on this path, it felt fitting to revisit these thoughts through the Google Doc, especially since Encyclopedia has hit its tenth anniversary. According to Pierce, it was an oddball album, a mix of synths and vulnerability, and the last Pierce made with his longtime friend and collaborator, Jacob Graham. Looking back now, it feels as though ages have drifted by, yet I’m only just stepping into adulthood, while Pierce has long since settled into his. I mention this because it's bizarre to me how music can accompany one's evolution and create an uncanny sense of time’s passage.
Pierce frequently shares on social media, allowing his inner world to be seen through the layers. Music touches us all differently and I believe it takes a quiet kind of bravery to let his audience, to create a shared experience that feels both intimate and universal. There is comfort in knowing that music is always deeply human. As he reminisced about Encyclopedia, he also announced the release of Blue Sky Boy. I couldn't help but wonder how I would change in the next decade, if The Drums would still be around, and if they would still be my go-to bands to listen to when I need a pang of nostalgia to hit me. Perhaps when bands and individuals evolve, some connections—however intangible—appear to stick around.
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