Via Audio :
From Berklee to Brooklyn

By Meredith Turits
Photos by Jeremy Balderson

Amidst the hot concrete of New York City sidewalks, Union Hall, a rustic bar with an old Americana feel, is discretely nestled into a side street off of Brooklyn’s 5th Avenue. It’s a strange juxtaposition: an interior constructed to look like a classic presidential library, with robust wooden benches and a verdant outdoor garden sketched unexpectedly into the animated whirr of a Park Slope Saturday. Fittingly, the setting harbors the same kind of intriguing contrast that is the cornerstone of Via Audio, whose members relax lazily under the shade of a leafy tree that rests against the building.

The band is just getting comfortable in these New York environs, having spent the last few years trickling down from Boston and carving out a spot for themselves in Brooklyn, all the while scraping together performances and somehow keeping the music focused. Their sweet brand of dreamy, wafting indie-pop has seemed to advance on its own and has left the bandmembers with some time to find a practice space. While progress from their 2003 inception to the release of September’s debut full-length, Say Something, seems fairly routine from the outside — an EP, a new full-length, and tons of shows — their evolution is the result of a few untraditional methods encountered along the way. And for Via Audio, it’s all part of the journey.

The band sprang to life in Boston at the Berklee School of Music, where they converged from points in Texas and New Jersey and where, as guitarist/vocalist Tom Deis admits, they weren’t finding a lot of focus on their own.

“I played crazy hip-hop/metal/jazz/folk/monkey music with David [Lizmi, bassist/vocalist],” says Deis. “I just found him through [that] scene at Berklee, which is very big there.” He laughs. “Then I met Danny [Molad, drummer/vocalist], because Danny wanted to play that kind of music too, because he’s a big name in that genre, and he joined in our jam sessions.”

Lizmi and Molad already had a band going with another “hippie jam band-y” guitarist, who they ditched in favor of Deis. The last piece was Jessica Martins on vocals, keys, and guitar.

“Initially, it didn’t meld so well,” says Martins. “Then Tom came and it was like steel to fire.” She smacks her fist into her palm for emphasis. The chemistry that solidified the line-up in 2003 is still radiating from the band members as they recount their history.

With roots in music school, one would expect an extremely structured set of compositions and a classifiable, honed sound. Yet, Via Audio was quick to take the path less traveled, establishing a somewhat untraditional sonic profile. Weaned on a classic Berklee background, known for its rigid methods and distinctive “Berklee sound,” the band deviated to find their own formula, and they succeeded, with twinkling, dreamy guitars that shine but still somehow offer an off-beat, dark overtone that envelops the entire record. And, with a bevy of different vocalists — four, if you don’t count the seemingly endless number of guests that swing in and out of the band’s shows — plus a rotation of instruments, there’s no customary front for the act.

“We’re indie in the sense that it’s not mainstream and it’s not formulaic,” Martins says, particularly focusing on Say Something. It’s a different approach than the manufactured jazz or rock that comes straight out of music school and plops into a genre label. And while the education has helped the band be more efficient as songwriters and communicators, by no means is Via Audio riding the school’s name for promotion.

“A Berklee background gives us a better understanding of music in general and music that’s out there. But,” Martins is careful to explain, “it doesn’t define us.”

Set in Boston with a solid line-up and songs that are coming together extremely well, the sensible, non-drastic thing to do would be ... well, simply nothing. Stay put. Play some shows and chill in the practice space. Instead, Via Audio began a gradual exodus from Boston, pushing off toward New York City over a span of two years and leaving members stretched between two cities. Molad was the first to split, then Lizmi a year later. Martins followed about six months after, and Deis rounded out the migration six months following that. In fact, the band has only been in New York together for a year.

They still kept together all that time, coordinating travel plans and meeting up before shows to go over songs they hadn’t practiced in weeks. But the whole situation wasn’t exactly the healthiest for a band looking to flourish.
“We didn’t really care about quality,” Martins continues. “We just played a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot of shows either here or there or in between.”

Lizmi recounts that many practices occurred hours before their sets — or sometimes never at all. But somehow, the formula worked for Via Audio, albeit in a strange, somewhat bastardized way.

“Up until recently, we weren’t rehearsing and then we realized ‘We sound bad‘.” Lizmi almost cringes when he hits the word. “So, we are trying to fix that.”
In keeping somewhat with their strange approach to rehearsal, the band bangs out a practice session just once a week in their Williamsburg, Brooklyn space. But they note that playing shows nearly three times a week on top of formal practice is honing their sound, and it’s clear from the nearly impenetrable synchronicity of their live show.

Martins, a mystical sprite on stage, dances her impish, dynamic energy into the cool, savvy mystique of Deis’ voice and guitar lines. Lizmi’s glowing presence infuses the combination with rhythm, a surprisingly decadent combination for the generally airy, melodic vibes.

The next logical step for a band that’s starting to gain some footing: create plans to release a record with a label that has bands with relative sound qualities? Well, not exactly.

While Via Audio did step into the studio (actually, Molad’s bedroom) to lay down a few impromptu tracks — one of which, “The Perfect Fix,” was thrown together last minute while recording — the project that became their self-titled EP was never intended to really see the light of day as a pressed record.

“The EP was sort of a side, fun project,” Deis says. “When we started it, we didn’t have any intention of putting it out. We were just starting and weren’t really a band back then.”

However, Via Audio stumbled into some luck, sending a copy to Think Records. Though the label didn’t want to put the EP out, they forwarded it to Connecticut’s Kill Normal Records, known for their traditionally punk-based roster, who immediately latched on to the four-piece’s product.

“They turned out to be some really cool punk rockers who wanted to diversify. We played to a lot of punk rock all-ages shows as an upbringing,” Martins says. And despite hooking up with a somewhat unconventional label for their sound through word of mouth, it has provided Via Audio with some serious staying power. “Now those kids are still coming out to shows.”

After the EP had dropped, Via Audio had plans in the works for a full-length. And thanks to Martins’ brazen impulse, the band landed a partner in crime who made all the difference.

“I was semi-obsessed with Spoon and it was my first time seeing them,” Martins explains, shifting back and forth on the bench with excitement as she tells the story. “I was really watching them and paying attention. After the show, there were roadies everywhere, and Jim [Eno, Spoon’s drummer] was breaking down his own set and I knew he was really cool. I don’t know, it was just something about how he was really humble,” she squeaks. “I gave him a CD ... and he actually listened to it. And then he got in touch with Kill Normal, even though we weren’t really still in touch with them. Luckily ... he got my phone number from them and he called me.”
Thanks to Martin’s unique courage, the quartet landed Eno to produce their full-length. And, it was their homegrown EP that sealed the deal.

“One of the things that attracted me to Via Audio was the fact that they [had] recorded all of their previous stuff on their own,” Eno says. “The production on the material was very exciting. I felt that working with Danny would be a great collaboration, because he has a great knowledge of using computers and multiple software programs to make music.”

After tracking some initial material in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., Via Audio headed down to meet Eno in Austin, Texas for some band boot camp (which, Martins assures, was “the best thing ever“).

“We spent two, two and a half weeks doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and breathing it,” Martins narrates. “[Jim’s] ears were tired when he’d go to bed. It was just hard fucking work.”

Eno echos the sentiments, but in his own way: “One thing that blew me away while working with Via Audio was how hard working they were. There were times when I was mixing in the control room and they were recording overdubs in the live room. Any spare minute they had they were working on finishing the record ... I know a lot of bands that don’t work nearly as hard as they do.”

Getting prepared to play Union Hall’s homely basement stage — eerie old paintings and all — Eno’s influence doesn’t end with the record. He will be joining in as a guest drummer. Martins’ frenetic overdrive bubbles to the surface as she announces his presence: “I can’t wait! Oh my god, my dreeeeam!” she squeals.
But when it comes down to it, things are simple. Whether they’re working with a big name like Eno, making decisions that screech in the face of formality, or soaking in the shade of a New York City-grown tree, Via Audio are four friends whose hard work has brought them to a very comfortable vantage point. And as for what they feel is the most pressing thing they need to tell the world?

Martins has it covered: “Come hang out. We’ll gently melt your face off.”

www.viaaudio.net