Hard to Label
Gabe Levine of Takka Takka on War, Art, and the City
With their freshly pressed debut full-length now available to discerning music fans everywhere and a three-week tour lined up with their friends Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Takka Takka is finally ready to take their act public. They play a distinctly New York brand of rock ‘n’ roll, but only if the New York you know and love has more to do with Lou Reed and Bob Dylan than Carlos D or any of the other hipster celebrities we don’t care about. Their songs are bouncy and upbeat, but maintain a seedy feel that’s provided by the character-driven lyrical content. I had a chance to sit down with singer-guitarist Gabe Levine, and we talked about their upcoming tour, the war, and his complicated relationship with New York City.
The L: Now that you guys have finally gotten your lineup pretty solid, and you quit your job to make the record, do you feel any pressure to do things a little bit faster?
Gabe Levine: I feel like I do a lot more non-music music stuff now, which is weird to me. Even just sitting here talking to you, I had to push practice back for an hour. This is the second interview I’ve done, so I’m not complaining. Just putting the tour together, it’s been a lot of planning. There’s been a lot of thinking about what the band is going to do outside the songs.
The L: This is something I find myself asking people constantly now, and I’m wondering if you have a take on it: the dwindling role of the record label. I hate to bring up your pals in Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, but they’re obviously the most shining example of it.
GL: We’re not on a label, and I don’t see us being on one in the foreseeable future. I think it’s totally reinvigorating the whole music industry, which I’m just starting to learn about. I think major labels are terrible, and I just don’t understand the whole thing. A friend of mine was playing a show a few weeks ago, and there was this band that opened. They were a pretty good band, but someone told me they were on this label I’d never heard of. And I thought, “Why are they on a label?” How hard is it to call a friend to do the graphic design and call the plant in Indiana? It’s really not that hard to do.
The L: Do you feel like it takes away a level of legitimacy, though? We’ve all grown up looking at things differently. I was the kind of kid who bought records because they were on certain labels.
GL: Yeah, it’s sort of like stumbling blindly forward. I think it’s great, though. Blogs are a reflection of the kind of music we’re playing. Our recordings are not polished, and the songs really aren’t polished. I think it’s cool that what blogs or what Myspace are doing is just as disorganized as we are as bands.
The L: I didn’t want to do this, but I do have to ask you about your connection to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. There’s obviously a double-edge sword aspect of the relationship. What are your thoughts on the whole thing and having to talk about it all the time?
GL: I love their music. I’ve been a fan of theirs for a really long time. Lee Sargent was supposed to have given me a Clap CD, but he never did. So to this day, I don’t officially own the record. We can’t complain, though. They’ve been so nice to us, taking us on tour. We’re just psyched to be playing shows, to be able to have people hear our music. And these are insane shows.
The L: Where’s the one in New York?
GL: We just found out we’re playing the Central Park show, which is insane. Like, we’re playing Sin-é next week, then a week and a half later, we’re playing Central Park. Talking about pressure, there’s a lot there. Like, I have a nervous stomach. I haven’t been able to sleep that well. I think that going forward, the tour itself is just going to be an exercise in managing my nerves.
The L: In the song ‘Enough’, the first line (“You realized that the countryside is better for you, but you realized that there ain’t no countryside in this town”) reminds me of a sentiment I’ve always been obsessed with: the idea of hating a place, and realizing it’s probably wrong for you, but for whatever reason, not being willing to leave.
GL: Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I have a love-hate relationship with New York City. At the same time, I don’t know if I’d be as creative a person somewhere else.
The L: See, I’ve always wondered if the opposite is true. If you didn’t have to worry about so much other stuff — you know, the fucking rent and all that. Maybe there’s just more time in other places...
GL: Yeah, I’ve fantasized about leaving. You know, I just got married, so I’ve thought, “Do I want to raise kids here?” It’s really hard for me to get a song written around here. I’ve just become really aware of the noise around me, and hearing my neighbors more. This is going to sound really stalkerly, but I just recently discovered this: I believe Andrew Kenny from American Analog Set lives in my building. It’s a really awesome discovery. I kinda think he lives upstairs from me. I want to ask him, you know, how he [writes songs].
The L: His shit’s all quiet, though, with the keyboards and laptops.
GL: I know. I definitely want to ask him. It sounds crazy, but whatever. I really like American Analog Set, and I think it’s cool that he maybe lives in my building. Anyway. I love recording, but there’s no space in my apartment. So I think about that a lot: What are we gonna do when we have to write a second record? We were thinking about renting a house upstate, but who knows. It’s this constant push and pull, living in the city. But there’s really not much you can do about it other than complain about it, like in that song.
The L: The album has a bit of war commentary on it. And I think the way you do it is sort of emblematic of a new way people are talking about the war, especially people our age. It doesn’t come off as particularly opinionated or even overtly political. There’s a certain disconnect from it, where people are writing about it as a daily frustration, just an annoyance that we’re all fucking sick of hearing about.
GL: Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. It’s insane that we’re not talking about it more. I definitely have sat down and tried specifically to write protest songs, and I’m just not good at it. It’s just not who I am or what I do. It’s everywhere, though. It’s this unending thing right now, and it’s become a fabric of our lives. After 9/11 and after Bush, it’s just not going to go away. I wish more people would sing more explicit songs about it, but I’m part of that too. I’ve come close every now and then, but it feels forced when I try to do it. I don’t have any political agenda. It’s weird, though. I don’t know why half the country isn’t pissed off about it. I definitely want to talk abut it artistically, and I’m doing it the only way I know how. So I’m glad you picked up on it.
The L: Now that you guys have finally gotten your lineup pretty solid, and you quit your job to make the record, do you feel any pressure to do things a little bit faster?
Gabe Levine: I feel like I do a lot more non-music music stuff now, which is weird to me. Even just sitting here talking to you, I had to push practice back for an hour. This is the second interview I’ve done, so I’m not complaining. Just putting the tour together, it’s been a lot of planning. There’s been a lot of thinking about what the band is going to do outside the songs.
The L: This is something I find myself asking people constantly now, and I’m wondering if you have a take on it: the dwindling role of the record label. I hate to bring up your pals in Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, but they’re obviously the most shining example of it.
GL: We’re not on a label, and I don’t see us being on one in the foreseeable future. I think it’s totally reinvigorating the whole music industry, which I’m just starting to learn about. I think major labels are terrible, and I just don’t understand the whole thing. A friend of mine was playing a show a few weeks ago, and there was this band that opened. They were a pretty good band, but someone told me they were on this label I’d never heard of. And I thought, “Why are they on a label?” How hard is it to call a friend to do the graphic design and call the plant in Indiana? It’s really not that hard to do.
The L: Do you feel like it takes away a level of legitimacy, though? We’ve all grown up looking at things differently. I was the kind of kid who bought records because they were on certain labels.
GL: Yeah, it’s sort of like stumbling blindly forward. I think it’s great, though. Blogs are a reflection of the kind of music we’re playing. Our recordings are not polished, and the songs really aren’t polished. I think it’s cool that what blogs or what Myspace are doing is just as disorganized as we are as bands.
The L: I didn’t want to do this, but I do have to ask you about your connection to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. There’s obviously a double-edge sword aspect of the relationship. What are your thoughts on the whole thing and having to talk about it all the time?
GL: I love their music. I’ve been a fan of theirs for a really long time. Lee Sargent was supposed to have given me a Clap CD, but he never did. So to this day, I don’t officially own the record. We can’t complain, though. They’ve been so nice to us, taking us on tour. We’re just psyched to be playing shows, to be able to have people hear our music. And these are insane shows.
The L: Where’s the one in New York?
GL: We just found out we’re playing the Central Park show, which is insane. Like, we’re playing Sin-é next week, then a week and a half later, we’re playing Central Park. Talking about pressure, there’s a lot there. Like, I have a nervous stomach. I haven’t been able to sleep that well. I think that going forward, the tour itself is just going to be an exercise in managing my nerves.
The L: In the song ‘Enough’, the first line (“You realized that the countryside is better for you, but you realized that there ain’t no countryside in this town”) reminds me of a sentiment I’ve always been obsessed with: the idea of hating a place, and realizing it’s probably wrong for you, but for whatever reason, not being willing to leave.
GL: Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I have a love-hate relationship with New York City. At the same time, I don’t know if I’d be as creative a person somewhere else.
The L: See, I’ve always wondered if the opposite is true. If you didn’t have to worry about so much other stuff — you know, the fucking rent and all that. Maybe there’s just more time in other places...
GL: Yeah, I’ve fantasized about leaving. You know, I just got married, so I’ve thought, “Do I want to raise kids here?” It’s really hard for me to get a song written around here. I’ve just become really aware of the noise around me, and hearing my neighbors more. This is going to sound really stalkerly, but I just recently discovered this: I believe Andrew Kenny from American Analog Set lives in my building. It’s a really awesome discovery. I kinda think he lives upstairs from me. I want to ask him, you know, how he [writes songs].
The L: His shit’s all quiet, though, with the keyboards and laptops.
GL: I know. I definitely want to ask him. It sounds crazy, but whatever. I really like American Analog Set, and I think it’s cool that he maybe lives in my building. Anyway. I love recording, but there’s no space in my apartment. So I think about that a lot: What are we gonna do when we have to write a second record? We were thinking about renting a house upstate, but who knows. It’s this constant push and pull, living in the city. But there’s really not much you can do about it other than complain about it, like in that song.
The L: The album has a bit of war commentary on it. And I think the way you do it is sort of emblematic of a new way people are talking about the war, especially people our age. It doesn’t come off as particularly opinionated or even overtly political. There’s a certain disconnect from it, where people are writing about it as a daily frustration, just an annoyance that we’re all fucking sick of hearing about.
GL: Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. It’s insane that we’re not talking about it more. I definitely have sat down and tried specifically to write protest songs, and I’m just not good at it. It’s just not who I am or what I do. It’s everywhere, though. It’s this unending thing right now, and it’s become a fabric of our lives. After 9/11 and after Bush, it’s just not going to go away. I wish more people would sing more explicit songs about it, but I’m part of that too. I’ve come close every now and then, but it feels forced when I try to do it. I don’t have any political agenda. It’s weird, though. I don’t know why half the country isn’t pissed off about it. I definitely want to talk abut it artistically, and I’m doing it the only way I know how. So I’m glad you picked up on it.
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