The Restrained Side of Samiam
I’ve been listening to Samiam, since oh around 1991 or 1992. Hailing from the Bay Area of California, they arose from the same Gilman Street scene as Operation Ivy and Green Day, but took a different path that blended a melodic and driving brand of indie rock with emotional delivery, humor and hints of pop punk.
They’ve also been doing it a while at this point.
Starting in 1988, Samiam rode the second wave of punk into the major label feeding frenzy that followed Green Day’s break, signing with Atlantic Records and recording “Clumsy” in 1995. Unlike Green Day, their record sold just 13,000 copies in six months. And following corporate downsizing, Samiam was released from Atlantic the following year.
This is familiar territory for more than a few bands in the mid 90s, and Samiam navigated the ups and downs while continuing to tour and release records, gaining and losing band members and evolving their sound.
In 2000, Samiam released “Astray” which balanced emotionally-tinged anthems with moodier, more subdued songs that got intensely personal. Without worries for commercial success, Samiam took chances, and chose restraint. Deep into the record, a song called “Curbside,” always spoke to me in curiously restrained display of emotional vulnerability.
Earlier this year, Samiam released “Stowaway,” their first record in 12 years, and to promote the record, guitarist Sergie Loobkoff spoke to the 100 Words or Less Podcast about the history of the band, highs, lows and all of the in-betweens.
He also opened up about a time when the restrained side of Samiam really spoke to him, on the final song from their 2011 record “Trips.”
“It’s the last song off that record, and it has extremely low streams. No one has ever said, “Oh I love that song ‘Happy For You,’” ever, and I don’t think a lot of people consider it a great Samiam song, but I remember sitting on this comfy couch in the control room while Jason was singing it. He came into the room, and mind you, I had been in this band for 20 years. I know what Jason’s capable of. He came in, he had a can of Hamm’s beer in his hand and he says, “How was that? Did it sound okay or did it sound like shit?”
And I was speechless. And this is gonna sound goofy talking about my own band, part of it was the music too, cause I thought it sounded great, but mostly it was the vocals, his lyrics and his voice. I was choking up as if I was listening to someone else’s band.
I’ve recorded millions of records, but I’ve never expressed to him, I just croaked out, “That sounds fucking great, right?” But really what I wanted to do was start crying and say “Dude that’s the best thing you’ve ever done, and if you get run over by a truck on your way home, I don’t care what anyone else says, you just did something that hit me in the whatever, friggin dickhead. This was beautiful.”
Essentially, the vocalist he’s worked with for over 30 years spoke to him on an emotional level, and he was frank enough to admit in this podcast that his own partially crafted brand of restraint and vulnerability would stick with him through the rest of his days.
I was struck by the passage because it demonstrated to me that Samiam isn’t just doing this “for the fans” after 35 years of existence. They’re doing it because they believe in it, and belief in your own art after three decades of existence is a powerful thing.
Samiam have a reasonably new record out on Pure Noise Records, but I’m gonna go back and listen to their quiet songs for a few days before I get back to the new record.
