“And for me, all I knew is I wanted to make music for the rest of my life forever and ever, and I’d love to tour, and you know part of that is if you could get signed to an indie label you have a better chance of doing those things.” “When I started the band, my bandmates at the time were asking what are goals is, or what’s the vision, or what you would want,” says Pasillas. Having finally been signed to a nationally-known indie label, and on the cusp of a long-awaited new record, Pasillas feels she’s achieved the kind of success that her band could only imagine upon their inception. Since then they’ve worked constantly writing, re-writing, practicing, promoting, playing, touring, supporting, displaying all the hallmarks of an ambitious local act looking to broaden their reach. Their first release, the Lullablaze EP, quickly became a scene favorite after its release on local label Den Tapes nearly four years ago. Regardless of how it’s perceived, S/T objectively puts a triumphant cap on years of steady rising for the Seattle rock band. You don’t need me to say anything about this for people to enjoy it, because it’s yours now.”
It’s not his job to tell you what something means. “He would always say, when people would ask what such and such means, that he doesn’t have the authority to tell you. She brings up one of her favorite artists of all time, David Lynch, and his approach to artistic interpretation. I appreciate when people want to know stuff, because I know what that’s like, but I also respect people who…you don’t have to hear what I have to say about it. “Sometimes people might not want to know everything. “People approach art differently,” she justifies. Not that she doesn’t want to go into it – “I could probably talk about my music forever”, she says – but Pasillas prefers to keep the lines open about what any of it means. The parts about S/T, her band’s new LP for Lauren Records, are kept brief in comparison. Because they made so much music and so very little of it is like, “I’m just gonna pop this song on.” “Part of what I always was drawn to about them, as a teenager, was that they obviously don’t care about what you think. “That band is so cool that it’s not cool to say that you like them,” she jokes. Alanis Morrisette, Jewel, Kurt Cobain, The Cranberries, Halsey, Richard Hell, Kendrick Lamar and fellow labelmate Adult Mom all somehow find their way into the mix.Īt one point, an allusion to the power of pattern recognition in single selection leads us to Sonic Youth’s Sonic Nurse and its surprisingly widespread appreciation in the scene. We complain, as one does, about social media. We talk about how time changes art and how so many musical institutions get that immutable fact wrong. We gripe about Pitchfork reviews (“I hope if we get a review there, it gets a 6.9”) and contemplate the endurance of U2 (“They’re one of the greatest bands in the world, that’s just what it is”). In a pastel pink coat and matching eyeshadow (paired with a striking blue mascara) her posture never wavers, her earthward gaze continually pensive.Īcross our winding hour-long conversation and the myriad topics we touch on, she glides between cheeky cracks and deadpan observations, all the while weaving her opinions in with her varied musical (and extramusical) interests. Yet though I continue to struggle with the cold, Sarah remains comfortable. Seattle’s weather takes a while to transform from the dour drizzle it’s famous for into something more akin to a California winter. It wouldn’t be surprising as a paraeducator for elementary-school students during the day, Sarah already dedicates a good deal of her time looking out for other people.Īs we talk about Antonioni and the circumstances surrounding their new record, the air continues to chill. Though I respond in the affirmative, she starts to unzip her coat almost reflexively, as if she were about to take it off and lend it to me.
When Sarah notices, she immediately breaks from our discussion to ask, concernedly, if I’m okay. It seems I’ve wildly misplaced my judgement in clothing, blinded by my optimism for warmer weather ahead. The drink I ordered hours ago has long since cooled, and my fingers have begun to redden and itch as the damp air of the cloudy day seeps in through the windows. Roughly half an hour has passed since Sarah Pasillas arrived from up north to take the seat across from me, but I’ve been at this table working for much longer. Spring might be right around the corner, but even in a T-shirt and cotton flannel my shoulders still shake uncontrollably in the cafe. The Antonioni frontwoman discusses her band’s long-awaited debut LP and the challenges of being vulnerable to the power of your art.
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