A reference to Moby Dick and a testament to the roots of what making music is all about, San Francisco seven-piece Or, the Whale, is kicking up dust along the West Coast and spreading the gospel of honest music. Writing songs with a country heart and a scope that encompasses the entire country, Or, the Whale’s sound embodies a friendly front-porch gathering, a rollicking jubilee, and a painful lament. From gospel to roots, Or, the Whale’s songs preserve a warm, organic feeling that transcends age and musical disposition.
Finding each other less than a year ago — through a Craigslist post with the headline “Want to Start a Sweet Country Rock Band” — Alex Robins (vocals, acoustic guitar, banjo), Matt Sartain (electric guitar, mandolin), Lindsey Garfield (vocals, guitar, percussion), Tessa Turner (slide guitar), Justin Fantl (bass), Jesse Hunt (drums), and Julie Ann Thomasson (keyboard, accordion, washboard) share an unrivaled compatibility, evident in their ability to write and perform together. “The biggest challenge is that we can never sound delicate,” Thomasson explains. It’s true; with seven people, no matter how slow or soft everyone plays, it still sounds loud. However, this loudness gives rise to the all-encompassing surge of sound that makes Or, the Whale so effective.

Seeing this band play live is touching, invigorating, and downright fun. “We’re very encouraging of each other on stage,” Robins says. “Tessa pats me on the back at least three times during a show.” The combination of purely heartfelt music and a very personable performance has the strength to make an entire crowd break into smile and dance. Armed with sincerity, an engaging demeanor and pure rocking energy, Or, the Whale can’t help but rile up a crowd to let loose and have a good time together.

“The cool thing is that there is so much room for error. With seven people, you can’t get caught up with doing everything perfectly — you need to abandon that,” Robins continues. “With smaller bands, I think people are prone to become control freaks.”

“I play something slightly different every time,” says Thomasson, who just recently added the accordion to her onstage repertoire. “The songs are all still mutating. And it’s very freeing.” As the band keeps progressing together, so will the songs.

Robins explains, “There is never really a finished point for any of them. We just need to let each song do what it’s going to do that night. Everyone knows when it comes together — that’s the best part.”

In late August, Or, the Whale released a 7-inch and headed up the coast for a 15-day-straight tour. “It was our first time playing for complete strangers,” Robins says. Often receiving encores as the opening band, and sharing bills with anyone from high school punk bands to Humboldt County’s Que La Chinga, Or, the Whale came to a realization in Oregon: “It’s harder to feel like it’s a great show when there are only six people in the audience — the other band and their two friends,” Robins says. “The show in Salem was our first all-ages show, and we played for a bunch of people that had probably never even seen a banjo before. There was a kid that came up to me afterwards, and told me in a hushed voice, ‘I usually like metal, but I was pretty into it.’“

Sartain adds, “It’s that primal, roots element that appealed to him, the 1-4-5 pattern you can’t help but react to.”

“All I know is that I’ll yell and scream for 100 people in Davis, and four people in Salem,” Robins says. “What I remember now is that one kid at every show whose eyes I caught.”

Back from tour, Or, the Whale are ready to record their album themselves in their practice space. “Recording is very limited, as far as capturing the live performance,” says Sartain, “but you can take your time.”

“With recording, we can just leave the guitar out and concentrate on those small, delicate touches that we can’t do on stage,” Robins adds.

At the end of the day, it’s their mutual love of music and like-minded approach to making it that fuels Or, the Whale. “We’ll be happy if our only success is not having to work other jobs, and just live off of doing this … even if we have to eat peanut butter,” Robins says. “The thing that makes me the happiest is being on stage with these six people. It makes a bad day go away.”

www.orthewhale.com