In this end of the year series, we at Ears to Feed spoke with some of our favorite artists to see what albums, films, shows or any other forms of art have helped them to cope through this truly trying year.
In this edition we reached out to Rick Maguire, the creative force behind the Boston post-hardcore band Pile. The group released one of the best albums of 2019, Green and Gray, which, in this author’s humble opinion, is their best to date. As always, each song bursts with intricate ideas and melodies. But this time around, the patented tension that generally permeates through Maguire’s songwriting is soaked through with a special kind of bile and disdain necessary for the waking-hell we all find ourselves wandering in these days. It goes, without question, that “The Soft Hands of Stephen Miller” will go down as the greatest answer to those asking if “punk would be good” in the Trump era.
Diving feet-first into binge marathons of certain shows or films has been pretty universal amongst all of us, who have been stuck indoors during the pandemic. For Maguire, this was the perfect time to revisit the works of David Lynch to fully understand the complex and dreamlike qualities of his surreal television series, Twin Peaks.
Check out Rick’s feelings on the works of David Lynch and stream Green and Gray by Pile below.
Rediscovering David Lynch’s Twin Peaks
This past year has been ideal for watching lots of TV. I’ve gone after shows that have many or long seasons. Twin Peaks has always been a series that many of my friends went gaga over but it never resonated with me. I love David Lynch’s work otherwise, but for some reason I never made it past the first or second episode. I’ve decided to give it another chance and try to do the whole series sequentially: first two seasons, [the prequel film] Fire Walk With Me, and now I’m about two thirds through the third season that came out in 2017. It’s starting to give me the same impulse that Mulholland Drive did, which is to jump on the internet and figure out what the fuck I just watched.
I’ve noticed that I’m generally drawn to art that’s confusing and weird but approachable. And not confusing and weird for its own sake, but because there is something very deliberate, challenging, and expressive happening. With Lynch’s work, I can’t tell whether it’s weird for its own sake or not, and this becomes increasingly difficult to determine as the series progresses.
And I like the idea of revisiting some art that I didn’t connect with the first time but then recognizing how great it is years later. This happened with Fugazi’s album, End Hits. I bought the record when I was 14 and didn’t get it. I listened to it again when I was 19 and it’s been one of my favorite records ever since. It’s nice to know what a shift in perspective can do.
I’ve also been trying to stay creative during this time, and watching David Lynch on the regular is a strong reminder that whatever creative ideas I’m after can be chased further and deeper.