A Grand Occasion 

The Occasion’s Jordi Wheeler

courtesy the occasion

Out and about with the Occasion

Look, we don’t blame you. Considering the shitstorm of media coverage that was thrust upon our little city a few years ago, we think you have every right in the world to be skeptical of the media telling you about a New York City band you need to listen to. But we’re in a tough place, you know? The Occasion deserves to be heard. Not for their clothes or because they have fabulous friends. Because of their music. It’s incredibly odd, but not for the sake of being odd. It’s melodic, often droning psychedelic rock that is both mysterious and familiar at the same time. Their live show is an experience not to be missed, and you’ll have a chance to catch them March 26 at Tonic, a benefit for the club itself, which is in danger of closing because of prohibitively large rent increases. Singer-guitarist Jordi Wheeler was kind enough to chat with us about a few things.

The L Magazine: How does it feel to have been critically acclaimed in the NYC scene for a few years now, touring with bands like Interpol, and working closely with friends like the Double, but to still be a relatively small fish outside of New York. Do you hope the new record will usher in some more extensive touring and do you plan on making a jump to a larger label like some of your peers?

Jordi Wheeler: It feels a little frustrating, at least to me, to not be more well known outside of New York at this point, but I’m quite impatient. We didn’t go on tour after the EP was released because we were too busy failing to meet recording and mixing deadlines for our new album. Hopefully when the new record comes out we will be able to tour on it extensively. As for jumping to a larger label, I guess we will wait and see if any tempting offers are made.

The L: With multiple singers and songwriters in the band, how do you decide what material is for the Occasion, and what is better left to work on as simply a personal project?

JW: We haven’t consciously worked on something and then decided that it would be best left to whoever brought it in. We simply work on a song and if it doesn’t go anywhere we shitcan it or decide to put it aside for an indefinite period of time.

The L: The new record, Cannery Hours, has been in production for what seems like a year at this point, can we get a loose explanation of why it’s taking so long and how everything has come together recently?

JW: Cannery Hours has taken us so long because we are lazy, poor, logistically hampered by multiple recording venues, incredibly meticulous, and not good at getting anything done unless threatened. It will be done/mastered by March 16, and that means it will have taken us since November of 2003 to finish a 9-song record. It should come out this summer at some point.

The L: Does it mean anything to be a "New York Band" anymore?

JW: I don’t think so, though I would like it to mean "creative band not obviously suckling the teat of some 80’s counterculture icon."

The L: Was writing weird music, growing out your hair, and doing drugs a logical progression for you after leaving the stifled halls of an all-boys Catholic high school?

JW: Peter D’Angelo, how dare you insinuate that I went to an all-boy Catholic high school?

The L: Do you think Sara (tape loops/percussion) is going to snap one day if she’s asked another stupid question about tape loops?

JW: I think it is possible that she will sample the sound of my boot kicking in the back of some poor schlub’s head for asking her stupid questions, in order that we use it for a 60-minute tape loop/ percussion jam.

The L: Characterize your guitar playing style. Do you credit a lack of traditional understanding of guitar, or are you just kind of making it up as you go along?

JW: I would characterize it as the result of a youthful, patient, willful lack of desire to play guitar like a guitar player.

The L: As a band that has made its name playing around New York and who has made its way through most of the clubs in the city, what do you think the changing of the guard in terms of venues signifies? If Tonic, Fez, and even possibly CBGB disappear, do the newer venues have any of the same personality or vibe? Or is it the end of a rock era in New York City?

JW: I honestly don’t go to shows that much, so I don’t know if I’m a good judge. My ignorant take on the matter: CBGB’s is legendary, and I think it would be a shame for it to disappear — especially if it were to disappear in order to build another fucking dormitory for NYU — because it is so tied to the city’s musical history and legacy. I think it would be a shame now for Tonic to disappear because I personally find the shows there more interesting than those at the newer rock clubs. The newer spaces in Manhattan don’t have that same New York City vibe, but they are young still, and I think they are in the process of finding their niche. The people who run the Secret Project Robot/Monster Island space that just opened in Williamsburg seem to have their hearts in the right place when it comes to supporting creative music and fostering a more creative vibe. I’m sure there are others with a similar aesthetic. I guess I don’t think the "changing of the guard" signifies the end of good music coming to New York, or the end of New York bands having good places to play. And that’s the most important thing to me.

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