Baker: A Recipe For Pop
By C.D. Di Guardia
Photo by Lara Woolfson
The five members of Baker don’t seem to just “go” someplace; rather, they arrive there — they descend upon the place with a buzz and a clatter of infectious energy.
On a Sunday afternoon in Cambridge, it’s slightly difficult to figure out how Baker has spent their weekend. By some accounts, they spent their Saturday in New York City, playing at Brooklyn club Galapagos. Others place them at a block party in the much more local city of Allston. Eventually, the truth comes out, courtesy of drummer Steve Lord, who cannot hold a straight face to save his life: “We did both — we did a double,” he confirms. Baker played an outdoor set at a block party on a small Allston street at some point in Saturday afternoon, and then simply packed up their gear and trucked over to New York to finish Saturday night in Brooklyn. Now here they sit in Cambridge, apparently no worse for wear or mileage, although they have no doubt left a wake of people who are glad to have crossed paths with this effervescent quintet.
Sitting next to Lord is keyboardist Nicole Boudreau, mastermind of the Saturday outdoor concert and bouncy keyboardist of the group. Across from them sit guitarists and vocalists Andy Casey and Conan Skyrme, the UK connection of Baker’s otherwise homegrown New England line-up.
Bassist James Tracy seemingly took his time on the way back from New York (“I knew we forgot something,” fusses Casey), but is finally back in New England. This most recent trip, as it turns out, was relatively nondescript, save some attitude from the New York bands. There have been worse.
Baker won their road-warrior spikes in a hellish and tumultuous trip to Philadelphia, where they played a show, mastered their newest record Bike Ride and shot a video for one of the its songs (“Fingers”). Despite this maelstrom of production achievement, the interesting part didn’t come until after the show.
“We ran into a bit of trouble after the show,” recounts Tracy, refusing to elaborate any more than the fact that Lord was behind the wheel for this trip. “Instead of staying with some friends or looking around for a place to crash, he high-tailed it out of town before shit went down,” says Tracy. Lord aimed the van at New York City and hit the gas.
Somewhere north of the New Jersey Turnpike, Lord finally decided the heat was sufficiently behind them and pulled into a rest stop. The band made the decision to find a motel, but the only available space was well-outside of their $18 budget. Deciding that a band that sleeps together stays together, the group tried to find some rest in the motel parking lot in the confines of their van. The enterprising (and, ironically, most compact member) Boudreau decided she’d have more space on the roof of the van, so she took her sleeping bag topside and made camp on the roof of the van. “It was not very comfortable,” sighs Boudreau. It’s a fun story with a seemingly needless odd turn, but this is how Baker does things.
It is unclear what, if anything, could topple this irascible band’s spirit and good mood. The idea that all this misfortune might damage another group’s resolve or mindset seems to not even register to Baker.
Skyrme is always happy to be back home. The trip to New York is one more reason.
“The good thing about a lot of Boston bands is that they’re really nice people; they’re not out to prove anything,” says Skyrme. “There’s a distinct lack of pretentiousness in the bands in the Boston music scene,” agrees Casey. “The New York bands sometimes won’t even talk to you. They wouldn’t even make eye contact,” he notes, in awe. “I felt like we were aliens,” says Boudreau. The members of the band seem taken aback — almost shocked — by the New Yorkers’ all business approach to rock shows. Baker has so far run things according to serendipity and chance, keeping the door open for anything.
Skyrme’s first incarnation of the band found its beginning in the United Kingdom. The States-side group met and began practicing in Lord’s basement in Wakefield, where his father would open the cellar door and shout encouragement.
Bassist Tracy has a respect for the first-generation Baker songs. “A lot of the songs on Bike Ride were written before we started playing together, so there is some history to them,” says Tracy.
History is nice, but the group particularly relishes some of the newer songs that are indicative of an all-hands effort, such as one of the album’s standout tracks, “All The Time,” which almost did not make it out of the studio.
“‘All The Time’ started with a chord progression that Conan would jam on but we couldn’t figure out where to go with it,” starts Tracy, who seems to be the resident historian in the group. Seeing Lord and Casey working on a totally different progression, Tracy saw a commonality between the two parts and suggested a combination. The parts fit almost perfectly. Skyrme and Casey set about collaborating on the lyrics, and then the entire band came together to arrange the song. The song hit the ropes a bit during the recording process, and may have ended up on the cutting room floor, according to Tracy, if not for a save by Boudreau. “Nicole added this really eerie Wurlitzer part and we all made it what is now,” explains Tracy.
The meanings for each song are multifaceted, according to Tracy. “Some songs have some history behind them. Some of them create different feelings while playing them live,” he explains, before almost catching himself — “Maybe in 20 years I’ll just remember how much fun it was playing some of those tunes with these guys,” he says of his bandmates.
In under two years, Baker has carved out a spot for themselves just by being themselves — they’re not just ready to deal with any challenge, they sometimes don’t register the challenge, they just keep on going, drawn towards the idea of “fun” like moths to a flame.
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