The Softeners, by their admission, “sound like Gang of Four’s illegitimate child with Guided By Voices, raised by their abusive uncle Don Van Vliet.” And honestly, it’s tough to be that. They bring a nod-along blend of ‘90s rock wrapped in a noisy blanket of distortion.
I first discovered them on Instagram and dug into their debut EP, Today’s Themes for Young Lovers. Knowing they were nearby in Raleigh and play out fairly regularly, I contacted singer/guitarist Chad Pry for an interview. He was gracious in scheduling and letting our “20-30 minute” conversation extend to nearly an hour of what often felt like music philosophy.
Dive into our pleasant lunchtime chat below!
How did you end up falling in love with music? Were there specific musical influences you latched onto as a kid?
Chad: I was 12 when Nirvana’s Nevermind came out, and that flipped a switch in my brain where I got exposed to punk rock. Before that, the only band I loved was They Might Be Giants or something like that. But once Nirvana blew up, suddenly, they were my favorite band, and I wanted to play guitar or maybe start a band. And then Kurt Cobain died, which hit my adolescent self hard, like many others.
At that time, I was a junior in high school who had just moved to Detroit. There was a great music scene with awesome bands coming through, which exposed me to local punk and indie shows. I fell in love with this Ohio band called Brainiac, which was influential on me to the point of hyper-fixation and idol worship. I was this pesky 16-year-old nerd who drove to as many shows as possible, constantly asking them questions at their merch table.
But sadly, about a year later, the lead singer, Tim Taylor, died in a car crash. My response was essentially, “The two people I’ve worshipped the most musically are dead. I should put this energy into starting my own band and treat them like my favorite.” It sounds a bit juvenile, but it felt like a more productive use of the effort, money, and time I had put into being an obsessed fan.
It’s easy to get struck by unexpected tragedies at that hormonal age, too. It’s a numbing experience, largely because you’ve never had to consider what things would look like with this band member out of the picture. Everything is suddenly different forever.
Yes, especially when the admiration you have for that person feels so personal. Obviously, now I see that popular media and record labels cause misplaced idol worship. They depend on these emotionally unstable teens to have an odd, parasocial relationship with musicians because it sells records.
That hits hard as a former emo mallrat. [laughs] When did you start playing in bands?
I moved from Detroit to Goldsboro, North Carolina, for my senior year of high school. I started and played guitar in my first band, which was terrible Black Flag-inspired punk rock, but that ended when I left for college.
I was at NC State for my first year, but there weren’t many punk rock kids from 1999 to 2000. Cat’s Cradle has always been a great spot to catch touring acts, but it was nearly impossible to find or start a punk scene like Detroit or Dayton, Ohio. Chapel Hill had this hipster reputation, but all the bands coming out of it felt like generic indie rock that didn’t interest me. I realized I had put the Triangle on a pedestal to start a “real band,” but after spending time there, it wasn’t as cool as I imagined.
After that year at NC State, I moved to Asheville to pursue a music arts recording program. Right away, Asheville was just a little weirder; people were doing more experimental stuff. Sure, there’s a ton of hippie music and pseudo-Americana pop, but there are also odd electronic acts. It felt like a much more creative scene than I found in Raleigh.
“The older I get, and at different phases of my life, I have a new appreciation for being in a band and part of a music scene.”
I’m not surprised by that. I chatted with an Asheville band [Run Over by a Horse] who echoed a similar sentiment.
It’s a fascinating place; I lived there for about 15 years. I started a band called On The Take, which helped me learn how to improve my singing and playing guitar abilities simultaneously. That was the first band where I was the band leader and got into writing my own songs or understanding melody.
There was a point where I got over the hump and was no longer embarrassed or self-conscious about what other people thought about my singing or my music. You cross over into a state of mind where it’s like, “I do it because I have to now.” I’ve been doing it for so long; it’s not something I do for fun. It’s part of me, my personality, and my lifestyle to be in a band and express myself creatively regularly.
I think people who start bands when they’re younger get into it and do it because they have to. They don’t do it for fans or recognition; they love to do it. A lot of people rag on these older bands that are getting back together 20 years later. But I don’t blame any of them if they’re having fun.
That’s a great point. Ragging on bands getting back together for a reunion tour because they need feels like a low-hanging fruit. It’s not always the case.
For me, it’s all about personal gain. That may sound selfish, but the feeling I get from being creative and working with friends to create a song is one of the most fulfilling in my life. Then again, I’m not a professional musician. But I am always in a band, playing shows and practicing weekly with other people.
As you get older — having kids, a full-time job, a college savings account — being in a band and participating in a group artistic activity provides much-needed social interactions. Not just your bandmates but also other bands you meet or people working at venues. The older I get, and at different phases of my life, I have a new appreciation for being in a band and part of a music scene.
I don’t think many people who don’t play music understand that. They’ll say, “Why do you do it if you’re not making money?” but never grasp the concept of doing a thing because you love it.
How has your songwriting evolved as you’ve gained these new perspectives?
This will seem like an odd tangent, but I’ve been listening to some ridiculous podcasts lately, so bear with me. Before written language, people taught their children and grandchildren how to live via music and song. They didn’t have written words; they sang how to plant the garden properly.
Thinking back on that, knowing that music played that role in a primitive version of humanity, makes me think differently about songwriting today. A lot of music now is artistic, but back then, there was this function. I’m fascinated by the idea of putting art out as a callback to that ancient way where you write a song, and it has a moral or lesson.
There’s this 90s band from Sweden called Ray Wonder. Their biggest claim to fame was that they were one of Beck‘s favorite acts. English is their second language, but there’s a positive message in almost all of their songs. “Be good to yourself, treat others with respect,” things like that. I want to write music with that meaning, reminding the listener to be good to themselves or that life is hard and things will be okay. That’s what I’ve been thinking about lyrically lately.
To follow up on the “songs as function” point, I find nursery rhymes fit in that mold. They’re kind of catchy enough to stick around in the culture, but in some cases, they’re getting information to the masses by worming it into their head with melody.
You look at the constant production of pop music so people can obsess over it and drive record sales compared to simply creating with others and building community. The function of local music is to draw people in and make connections rather than be an economic engine.
Plus, pop music, now and forever, relies on lyrics that will purposefully evoke a particular emotional reaction from the listener to sell the song. Someone’s just saying, “I’m going to write the most generic love song that anybody who’s had their heart broken can relate to,” so they can make a bunch of money from it. And I’m just so sick of that shit.
I remember making a personal declaration about 10 years ago to stop listening to and writing sad songs. That music will always exist elsewhere, but there are other feelings I’d rather convey.
That reminds me a bit of my friend Phil’s songwriting process. He basically noodles around until he finds a part he likes, then builds around that. Any lyrics he comes up with are informed by the emotions the instrumentals invoke.
I’ve not attempted that, but that’s really cool. My approach to songwriting is more haphazard. Musically, I start a song on an instrument and vary the instruments, whether keyboard, guitar, or bass. I’ll finish that aspect of a song, and then that will inspire the rest of the parts. I’ve found that keeps me from having writer’s block musically because I’m not always writing songs with the same instrument.
If I’m not feeling creative with the guitar, I’ll grab the ukulele or bass or sit down at the piano. Just that change of scenery and tactile instrument puts my brain in a different place. If I’m sitting with the guitar and I’m not inspired, I can walk across the room, turn on a drum machine, and base the song off a riff on that.
What led you from living in Asheville to starting The Softeners?
I moved back to the Triangle around 2013 and started the band under the name Secretary Pool. It started well at first, but after a year, I didn’t have the relationships that I was used to when in a band with other people. So that band went through various bass players and drummers for several years.
I’ve read other people talk about finding the right people to play with, and I’ve talked to other people in bands about it. The worst scenario is having people in the band who don’t share the same vision but have many critiques. It’s a very negative way to navigate a group collaboration. Having a few people like that in the previous versions of the band, I only noticed once they were gone.
There are enough barriers to creativity without having someone to complain about every step of the process. Bands need people who are like, “We’re playing at the Cat’s Cradle? That’s awesome! Let me know what I need to do to help.” It’s a team effort, you know?
A little over two years ago, we found a new drummer with whom we became fast friends. Not long after, we got a new bassist, who completed this reinvention of the band. Finally, we had the right blend of people with similar ambitions for practicing together and playing a couple of shows each month. So, we changed our name to The Softeners to signify that change.
That’s awesome to hear! Have y’all had any noteworthy gig stories from the last two years?
Our last few shows have been a blast. I love watching our bassist Evan, who is a few years younger than me, bring the enthusiasm that I remember having 15-20 years ago. I can look over at him, and he’s just so psyched to play shows.
We’ve also come to the conclusion that we are not going to take every show we get offered. [laughs] There have been some great shows over the last two years, but we’ve also had a lot of weird matchups that don’t make any sense whatsoever. Nobody out to see some pop-rock band from Orange County, California, will enjoy us. And that sort of thing has happened multiple times.
We’re looking to open for touring acts that we would complement, so that’s our top focus moving forward, other than some shows if we’re just really good friends with somebody.
Are there any touring acts you would love to open for?
I mentioned the band Brainiac earlier. They actually got back together with one of the dead singer’s younger protege friends. So they are, again, my favorite band about 20 years later. The difference is I’ve got a good relationship with them. I’ve gone on tour with them and managed their merch table. We’re hitting the West Coast for a week in January, so I’m pretty excited about that.
Hopefully, we’ll get to open for them when they come to North Carolina. I’m lucky to have fostered a relationship with those guys because when I was a teenager, I was just like this pimply kid emailing them all the time. But now, when you’re older, an age difference of 5-6 years doesn’t mean anything.
Who are some of your favorite local bands, either here in the Triangle or elsewhere in the state?
1. Totally Slow from Greensboro. They’re very punk rock with a little bit of surf twinge to their sound. As far as punk goes, they are top-notch and play regularly in the Triangle, so people should check them out. I’ve been friends with the lead singer of that band for probably 20 years. I used to go to Cat’s Cradle, watch his band up on stage, and think he was the coolest dude ever when he was just a year and a half older than I was.
2. Blab School from Durham. They’ve got an odd pop-rock, quirky thing going on with them that I really like.
3. Horizontal Hold from Durham. They have a pre-synth New Wave vibe that’s neat and just stands out from the mass of singer-songwriter or derivative indie pop releases that flood the Triangle.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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