IN CONCERT
What: Future Islands with Sudan Archives and Oh, Rose
Where: Capital Ballroom, 858 Yates St.
When: Friday and Saturday, Sept. 6 and 7, 9 p.m. (doors at 8)
Tickets: Sold out
Touring bands endure their share of hardship on the road, from bad food to mechanical breakdowns. While many fracture before the end goal is attained, the strong ones break through years of mall-food malaise and are vindicated for their efforts. But the dividing line between success and failure is often paper-thin.
Baltimore synth-pop trio Future Islands put in years of hard work before its 2014 breakout, and to date has played more than 1,200 shows as a unit. The emotional scars of their early days are still with the band members, according to singer Samuel T. Herring, even though Future Islands has reached a comfortable level as a group. “We are able to see it in people’s faces every night, and we’re reminded why it’s important that we continue to be out on the road — why we push through the pain,” Herring said during a recent tour stop.
“The mental and emotional weight of the road sometimes can be really difficult to deal with. It’s not something you figure out.”
Future Islands began a tour to support its new album, The Far Field, on Aug. 26, and has two stops on its agenda this weekend in Victoria. Both shows are sold out, which speaks to the band’s enduring popularity after 12 years together, and the work ethic of its members. “We’re a band that made ourselves on the road,” Herring said. “We’re not a studio band. We toured because it was the only way we could reach people, the only way that we could afford to live. Sleeping on floors and the couches of strangers — that’s how we lived for years and years, to get to the point where we were making a real living off of it.”
Though he’s only 34, the North Carolina native has the off-stage rasp of a performer decades his senior. He might wear his emotions on the outside, but Herring maintains he isn’t worn out. “I feel old as hell,” Herring said, with a big laugh. “I’ve been in a band for so long, man. But you figure it out over time. You find ways to get by.”
Herring and his bandmates, keyboardist Gerrit Welmers and bassist William Cashion, have been together in one group or another since 2003. Succeeding at music was always the intent, though the definition of success has changed over the years. In the early days, getting people to their shows was the goal, even if the gig was in a laundromat. It’s a familiar story for countless bands. But not every act finds a way to endure.
Future Islands fought hard to succeed, to exist, and won. Five years of consecutive touring led to a series of 2013 recording sessions for Singles, its fourth album and first for 4AD, the pioneering British label.
With advance buzz building, the group was booked on The Late Show with David Letterman for its network television debut, three weeks before the album’s release. Shortly after its performance of Seasons (Waiting on You) had aired, the group was a certifiable viral sensation. By the end of the year, The Village Voice, NME, Pitchfork and Spin had all named it the best song of 2014.
The Letterman clip still resounds today. Herring, looking like Marlon Brando in a tight black T-shirt and dress pants, turns in a star-making performance, with abundant atmosphere and intensity. The appearance was such a success, Bono of U2, who had not heard of the group before that night, shipped the band a case of Guinness and champagne as a compliment.
“The slow build was important,” Herring said of the band’s pre-Seasons career. “We got to take it all in and appreciate it every step of the way. When Letterman happened, the next couple of years people would always ask: ‘What was it like to finally feel success?’ But we had already done that. If we had that [Letterman] opportunity in 2010, it might not have been the same thing. But between 2010 and 2014, we played another 350 shows. That polished it up.
“If you put me on TV in 2010, I would have had asymmetrical sideburns and bright pink pants. People would have thrown their TVs out the window. I grew up a little bit. I think we all did.”
Herring said he still hasn’t curbed some of his wayward ways when it comes to his voice. He’s not a classically trained singer; the natural tenor relies on the raw emotion of his lyrics to shape his performance, which is why the band’s Letterman appearance struck such a chord with audiences. At times during the song, he appeared to be near tears, pounding his chest with such force it was audible through his microphone.
It wasn’t, however, what some would call a technically sound performance by Herring. “When I was young, I had a really nice voice, but I didn’t know how to use it. It didn’t have the character that it does now. I kind of damaged it through singing incorrectly. I lost a ton on the top register — at least an octave, if not an octave and a half off the top. But I gained low and I gained grit and I gained character. I don’t have the same voice that I did, but now it’s my voice, and I know how to use it. I’m growing with my voice. It’s not where I’m at in my life; it’s where I’m at in the life of my voice.”
Herring and his bandmates started making music as Future Islands with borrowed instruments. Welmers, previously a guitarist, was on keyboards out of necessity, while Cashion was playing bass for the first time. Herring, who had experience in hip-hop, had never sung before, but a bond was forged. “In a weird way, we were all coming at it together, for the first time,” he said.
Years of playing honed their confidence and has enabled Future Islands “to let go and not worry,” Herring said.
“When you play in somebody’s basement or a little café or a laundromat, and only play to 15 people, that’s a special moment. When those people see your record in a store or see you in a magazine, they say: ‘I saw them play to 15 people!’ It’s something that is shared. It isn’t just our moment, or our friends and families that supported us over the years, it was for all the people that had seen us play to that point.”
