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I'm standing outside an anonymous-looking building on Oak Street, contemplating the Vancouver music scene in preparation for Discorder's local music extravaganza. Some pretty good bands spring to mind - P:ano, Jerk with a Bomb, Radio Berlin... but there are two acts who stand head and shoulders above the competition. One is the awesome hip hop crew Swollen Members, the other is Beans, who should be showing up any minute now. I take a moment to fantasize about how a collaboration between these two Van City giants might sound. My reverie is broken by Beans guitarist Stefan who ushers me inside. We take a winding path up some stairs, past a defunct harpsichord and into a post-production film studio, where Stefan introduces drummer Andy. The rest of the band take their time showing up. Bassist Damon eventually ambles in, followed by guitarist and self-proclaimed "loose cannon" Tygh. Multi instrumentalist Ida never makes it along but nobody seems to mind. Everything's pretty laid-back and informal. The band extend this attitude to everything they do. Take their name, for instance. Stefan prefers to say "The Beans" whereas Tygh (who, significantly in this matter, does their sleeve art) prefers simply "Beans". They're both easy going about which version anyone else chooses to use. Likewise, everyone's allowed to pursue various projects outside the band (Stefan plays in The Birthday Machine, Damon in Saul Duck and Ida in Radiogram and - brace your self - Cunt). Meanwhile, they've slowly-but-surely built up a reputation as Vancouver's leading post-rock band, playing music that gradually evolves from virtual nothingness into a beast of raging intensity. Up 'til recently, the most solid thing they had to show for their efforts was the LP Portage, which came out in 1998. Right now, though, The Beans seem to be building up quite a momentum in their rate of activities. There's a new EP called Tired Snow on Californian label Zum Media, which is being distributed across North America. They're promoting it with a two-week tour at the end of August, which will take them right down to Cali. In addition to stepping up their musical activities, The Beans are branching out into film. They're in this studio to work on the soundtrack for an independent feature film, called Red Dear, and are planning an evening for the Blinding Light Cinema. They're very tight-lipped about the latter project, which will reach fruition on October 14. All Tygh will say about it is: "It's a performance about an experimental film maker." In spite of trying to juggle all of this with work and/or school, they don't seem to be having much trouble maintaining their relaxed collective demeanour. After spending a little time in the presence of this, it becomes clear why Beans never get bogged down in the poe-facedness that afflicts many similarly atmospheric guitar groups. "It's just like an extension of us hanging out," says Stefan, locating the source of the sly humour that gives much-needed moments of levity to the band's music. "I remember, when we started, humour was definitely something we wanted to get in there", Tygh admits, "I hope it comes through." But, like everything do, how they realise this has more to do with their friendship as individuals than any conscious collective decision-making process. "When we play live, I just have to close my eyes because as soon as I look at Andy, or something, I just start laughing", says Damon, "It's not that it's funny, it's just that I'm having fun. I just get super happy." Tygh adds: "if you're having a laugh attack, you're, like, 10 steps closer to starting to cry. You're opening yourself up, so maybe it's like an unconscious device - I don't know." Damon agrees: "They're both good." The same un-contrived approach is, surprisingly, at the heart of the band's multi-textured sound, which extends the normal guitar-band line-up with Ida's piano, accordion and trumpet, a battery of electronics, some more wind instruments and various found sounds. It's amazing that such rich results can stem from a relatively thoughtless process. If Stefan is to be believed, though, it's all down to the fact that the band members share of love of "sounds." Tygh, is particularly excited by the possibilities of painting with a broad sonic palette. "It effects the way you perceive the music so your listening through those sounds not necessarily picking up harmonies and stuff", he enthuses, "It's like, there's a door creaking and you don't even realise it or certain frequencies effecting you." Andy is especially interested in the possibilities thrown up in this area by new technology: "I don't know if we're making any kind of statement but we're excited by the sound-world possibilities of electronics." Tygh agrees: "There are so many avenues that haven't been explored in the type of stuff that we do, it's really insane, so I'm sure you'll see a lot of exciting stuff." For simple logistical reasons, it's been increasingly difficult for the band to incorporate this element into their shows, which leads me to wonder aloud whether they approach recording and playing live with two very different attitudes. Again, they argue that, if they do, it's only natural. "I don't know if we consciously make them different", says Stefan. "They are different things, right?" adds Damon, "So you have to approach them differently." So, says Andy: "We see going into the studio as an opportunity to do things that we might not be able to do at a regular show." Tygh continues: "When we're in the studio we have the opportunity to layer a bunch of sounds and make one new sound. Live you can do some layering but it's not the same. It's a bit rawer. Part of the live show is that you have bodies in the same room playing music and people interacting on a chance level. Their internal organs are being effected by the frequencies that we're putting out there. It's a direct conversation." I suggest that, with such an attitude, it must be important for them to make every show unique. Once again, Damon argues: "We don't plan it, we just do it. We don't consciously do it, we just like to have fun and enjoy whatever we're doing at the time. If we're working on new stuff, we'll try that." For most bands, extending The Bean's laid-back philosophy to live performance might be impractical. It's hard enough to get a well-drilled set of established material to work in most venues, let alone to try anything spontaneous on a whim. Luckily Beans have managed to establish a special relationship with top Granville venue The Sugar Refinery's proprietor Steve. "Steve was pretty nice to us", says Andy, "he's a great man." Tygh reminisces about Steve's role in the last Beans tour: "he was with us and did, like, most of the driving, documented everything, made sure we got paid or else kicked their asses, cleaned the van... He's a workaholic support machine." He's also created a deliciously garlic-scented little space, ideal for the band's improvisationally expanded songs. "We're into the way that everyone's sharing the space", says Stef. "That room is full of art", adds Tygh, "Steve's approach is to re-arrange the layout on a daily basis. He's continually painting new colours on the walls and the artwork's continually changing. It's a really good environment." Andy continues: "We feel comfortable there too. We know what to expect - what power outlets are going to go out - and we know the people there, so it's never tense. We can pace it however we want to and play whatever we want to." The connection is extremely well established - Stefan suggests they may have played there over 100 times and the band even recommend the venue's astonishing Pasta Rafael on the sleeve of Tired Snow. What makes the relationship between Beans' music and The Sugar Refinery so magical is that the band and the venue share an awkward-but-intoxicating intimacy. It had previously occurred to me that, on parts of Portage in particular, the Beans' intimate sound is quite powerfully erotic. Thankfully, I'm not the only one to have come to this conclusion. "One of the best comments I've heard after a show was: 'Man that one song you played was like the soundtrack to the best fuck I ever had'", laughs Tygh, "I loved that man." Damon admits: "I'd always hoped that Portage would be the best album to make love to. Someone told me that it had been their make-out album all last year." Tygh cuts in enthusiastically: "That's success, right there!" Beans are such a great band that one can't help but hope that they achieve success of a more lucrative nature. Whatever the case, it seems likely that they'll go from strength to strength artistically. This suspicion is confirmed towards the end of the interview when I 'fess up to my Beans/Swollen Members crossover fantasy. To my great surprise Tygh seems to think the idea has potential. "I like those guys", he says, "There's been other rap groups in town that have got some notoriety, whose pretentiousness inhibited any crossover but they're not like that." It turns out that The Beans are huge hip hop fans and Tygh regards the form as "a huge influence", though, as Andy puts it, "Not in a concentrated form." Andy and Tygh once tried to put together a hip hop-centric tune, complete with their own rapping, but Stefan vetoed it. "It was really bad", Andy admits, " but it was strictly two guys totally enamoured with hip hop and wanting to share it with people." Mental scars left over from this experiment, along with the band's all-encompassing avoidance of contrivance, may inhibit any further excursions into rap city but their enthusiasm for hip hop counts for a lot. It puts them more in league with super-obscure first-wave UK post-rock acts like Bark Psychosis than with the tediously Slint-besotted North American bands of today (with whom they share some superficial similarities). As I leave the studio, I feel a wave of optimism. The sun is shining and the sky is wide open. While their music will probably retain its dusky, inconspicuous sound, the open-minded irreverent spirit behind it will soar The Beans to even greater heights of vertiginous creativity. You really should be along for the ride.
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