Catching Up with Michael Ian Cummings of SKATERS
Michael Ian Cummings, Josh Hubbard, and Noah Rubin formed SKATERS in 2012. Since then, they’ve been called “devishly enticing,” the band that can “finally bring guitars back into fashion,” and have been compared to the Ramones and New York Dolls for their post-punk core, mellow-catchy hooks, and seemingly effortless excess of throbbing energy. Three years later, they shook off Warner Bros. Records as their label and went off on their own. I sat down with Michael at Veselka, an old-school diner in the East Village, as the band prepares for the self-release of their upcoming album, to talk about going rogue, late nights, early-adolescence nostalgia, and the old New York versus L.A. debate.
So you’re independent now! How did the split from your label happen?
MIC: It was last year. 2015. We’d finished the cycle on the first one, and fortunately, they were nice enough to let us go. Which was cool because I felt like we were able to write a record that we wouldn’t have been able to write.
Why’s that?
MIC: Because they would be expected more of the same, the things they thought were supposedly successful. And then the things they didn’t think were successful, they would turn down because it wasn’t a proven formula. They wanted us to sound more pop-y and more punky, more like every other band so they could put us in the same category.
It’s a vicious cycle.
MIC: That’s not what I’m interested in doing for the rest of my life. I’m interested in changing. Not necessarily even changing directions, just pivoting a little.
Any long-term successful artist has to evolve.
MIC: Yeah, exactly. And any time in history they’ve done that, they’ve been met with hesitation.
The most obvious example is Bob Dylan going electric.
MIC: Totally.
So I saw the new video for “Mental Case” and recognized Alia Shawkat from Arrested Development, as well as some streets in Brooklyn. How did it come about?
MIC: Yeah, that was fun. I was staying at Josh’s house on Huron Street.
I think I went there once…
MIC: You were in the backyard one night.
Right. I was wasted.
MIC: We did everything there because we were in the neighborhood and then we were like, let’s just do it right here. Like everything we’re doing right now is calling in favors from friends and stuff like that because we have no actual money. We’ve just been playing high-paying shows to get us some cash in order to finish this record. We’ve done it all out of pocket, so it’s been really slow. People are wondering where the next thing is, but what can you do? We’ve got to do it at the pace it’s going.
I heard you recorded between 50 and 60 tracks for this album. Is that true?
MIC: Last year was busy. We stopped touring and we just wrote every day. All those songs got written, and then maybe 24 got tracked.
You have a new song that just came out, right?
MIC: Yeah, it’s called “Head On To Nowhere,” and I think it’s my favorite song we’ve done, like, ever.
How do you judge that?
MIC: Obviously, it’s personal.
Sure, which I would imagine would make it harder to pick. I feel like in interviews, musicians always say it’s like choosing a favorite child or something.
MIC: Well, that’s fucking stupid. It’s easy for me. Maybe I won’t feel that way next year, but when it’s new, it’s usually the most exciting. Even if you don’t like a band’s record, you always find they’re most excited about their newest one. I mean, hopefully.
I think there’s a probably a problem if you’re not. If you’re like, “Eh. It’s okay…”
MIC: Exactly. But then there’s hindsight. I think it was Noel Gallagher from Oasis who said, ‘We got better and better live as the band progressed, and the songs got worse.’ Like, you’re allowed time to look back on shit.
As for looking forward, do you have a release date for your new album?
MIC: It’s still kind of fuzzy how we’re going to release the record. We’re looking for a partner, but honestly, we might just put it out ourselves.
I feel like if music is good, people will notice it.
MIC: What is it, the cream rises to the top?
Something like that, something with cream. So what else have you been doing?
MIC: I’ve been going out and not drinking lately.
I’ve never done that.
MIC: It’s interesting because once you figure out you can, it’s empowering. You don’t even crave it. After awhile. You crave the feeling and camaraderie and sometimes the taste even, but…
Red wine is only alcohol I crave. I feel like it’s healthy. It’s a blood thing.
MIC: My thing is, I can’t just have one glass of it and call it a night. My one glass turns into a whole night. Wine at dinner means a nightcap. A nightcap means…
The next morning. I’m trying not to do that anymore.
MIC: And we’ve done it so many times, there’re no surprises. My friend had this saying. She used to tell me, ‘Michael, nothing good happens after 2:30.’
My mom used to say that. And I’d say, ‘Sometimes something good happens!’ I think I was wrong.
MIC: There are some exceptions. You do it, but then there are just no surprises. You know exactly what’s going to happen.
The same conversations.
MIC: Yeah, deep, meaningful connections…The late-night house hang. You start looking around and going, ‘Are these people my friends? I’m not like them, am I?’ And then you’re like, ‘Yes, I am one of them.’ Because you guys are all hanging since you’re the last ones who want to stay up.
Oh, yeah. My real friends go home. I wish I were more like them.
MIC: Well, that’s what I’m trying to do. Tomorrow’s problems are tonight’s good time. Or should it be tonight’s good time is tomorrow’s problems?
Nothing’s free in life.
MIC: You pay for it all, just later. I think touring got me in the habit of just always drinking. But this time, I’m more excited about this music. I’m itching to play shows again. The thought of going on stage doesn’t seem like work.
What else is different this time around?
MIC: When we started the band, a lot of the songs were already old by the time we did the record. We did the EP, then we got signed, and even for bands it was rapid, but in my reality, it was slow.
Your first album was kind of all about New York, in a way.
MIC: It was kind of a concept album about a kid moving here because that’s how it felt.
You were that kid?
MIC: It was more tongue-in-cheek than people gave it credit for. That’s really my one regret. There was so much tongue-in-cheek shit that people took literally.
That’s the problem with irony.
MIC: That, and also maybe I didn’t make it obvious enough because we were a new band. No one knew us.
So they had no point of reference. Who do think has done that successfully?
MIC: Someone like Matt de Marco. But he’s a really funny guy.
So you’re just not funny enough.
MIC: Yeah! Our record was just too dry. Like that song, “To Be Young in New York City” was totally taking the piss.
Even the name! Obviously.
MIC: You would think so, but then you read some of the reviews and it’s like, ‘How can you not get that I was ragging on my generation’s version of a yuppie and bullshit rich-kid artists in New York? People did not pick up on that at all. All they heard was, ‘Ah, it’s great to be young and I’m in the best city in the world!’ That was not the fucking point! You never know who’s going to review what you’re doing, and I’ve learned you kind of have to just make it available to everyone. I’m not saying dumb it down, by any means, not talking about lowest common denominator. I’m saying make it accessible so it’s not confusing to anyone. I mean, musically you can confuse the shit out of them. I just don’t want the message to come across as something it’s not.
But I really appreciate dryness and sarcasm. I read what you wrote on Courtney Barnett. She’s someone who’s done a good job being transparently ironic and getting humor across. It was refreshing to read a piece about music by someone who, you know, plays music.
MIC: That was fun. I want to write more for that site. I will say one thing that’s kind of problematic is that when you are writing about another musician, you kind of don’t want to give it to them. You know, you don’t want to say what you would say to your friends.
You mean if you have something negative to say?
MIC: Right. Like you wouldn’t do what Pitchfork does.
But you also don’t want to kiss their ass.
MIC: Exactly. And I totally kissed Courtney Barnett’s ass.
It sounded genuine.
MIC: It’s genuine. Yeah, it is, but there are maybe some things I wouldn’t say publicly that if I were a totally unbiased writer, like a staff writer somewhere, then I would say a few things. Like about the band. But my main point, obviously, is that it’s an enjoyable record and I liked it. I want to put more positive record reviews out there because why would you review a record if you don’t like it?
Why take the time?
MIC: I don’t understand why you would take the time to put more negative energy out in the world. I wanted to give a really positive review to have more positive things in the universe. But yeah, when people point at you publicly and say, ‘That’s a person. I know how to get to that person,’ and you’re not hiding behind your bullshit VICE name or whatever.
I won’t be mean without being self-deprecating, too. That’s a rule. I won’t make fun of stuff without making fun of myself, too. Have you gotten any online negativity?
MIC: I guess. I just don’t look at it. I think of a fat 14-year-old kid in his or her bedroom, and you’re really going to get bent out of shape over something like that?
I’ve never understood most people who write comments on sites.
MIC: I still know people in bands who respond to people when they say somewhat aggressive things. Like, the whole world just watched you respond to some 14-year-old kid in Argentina who just wants to take the piss out of you and see if you’ll respond, and then you just look like an idiot.
Some people can’t help it. It shows insecurity. Which is not attractive.
MIC: Exactly. But I don’t think we have a lot of people trolling us. Our small group of fans is devoted, and I think that’s really good to have right now because we’re about to put out a record that’s not like anything we’ve done. So hopefully, they’ll stick by us.
Do your fans fit a certain type?
MIC: Well, if you ask Facebook, they’ll geo-target people to age, gender, and country. I think girls and guys, mostly in their early twenties.
That’s, like, the whole world. How old are you?
MIC: Thirty. It’s hard to believe we started this band four years ago.
That’s not even that long ago.
MIC: Yeah, but it’s which four years they were.
I’m thirty, too. You go from being one of the youngest people in the room to not. It’s a big shift.
MIC: Things naturally pivot, don’t they? I listened to this podcast recently. Noah’s really into podcasts and he got me into them a couple years ago on tour. They’re just stories. It’s the oldest form of entertainment: storytelling. And so there was this one called “New York After Rent,” and it’s pretty amazing. It’s from Benjamen Walker’s Theory of Everything. They talk about how everything is always changing. And New York changing after the play Rent. Life Café closing. And they talk about St. Mark’s Place and this woman who wrote a book called The Death of St. Mark’s.
I reviewed it, as a matter of fact.
MIC: And she asked everyone the same question: ‘In which decade was St. Mark’s in its best form?’ because it’s constantly evolving. Everyone said it was in its best form when they were at their hottest. And I was like, ‘That is it!’
It’s constantly dying.
MIC: It’s constantly dying. It’s constantly being reborn. The same people who complain about gentrification are the ones contributing to it. If you went in to that Starbucks across the street and asked people about gentrification, they would tell you how bad it is.
What do you like about living in New York?
MIC: The anonymity. I like how big the city is and how you can just walk and do whatever the fuck you want to do. I still feel totally free here.
No one gives a shit what you’re doing.
MIC: There’s more anonymity in New York than any city I’ve ever lived in. People give a shit. People look at you. You can see so many different walks of life, and you actually live in true diversity, which is so hard to find. Portland, Oregon does not have diversity no matter which way you look at it. Anywhere else, you don’t have to try to stand out. I think I, and anyone I know, would naturally stand out in just about any part of America. However, here, I almost want to be more normal.
Because that stands out.
MIC: Well, I can just be normal and be crazy in the head. I can be as nuts as I want to be up here, and sometimes I just walk out of the house with no concern about what I look like because that shit doesn’t matter. You go to L.A. and go to get a cup of coffee in the morning: People are dressed to the nines.
And they’re staring at you.
MIC: And they’re dressed up to go get a fucking cup of coffee! I’ve got to say I became that when I was living there.
What did you wear to get coffee?
MIC: Like, nice clothes. It gets to a point where everyone has their neat little place and you ask yourself, ‘Are you a punk? Are you a hipster from Echo Park? What’s my identity? I don’t fucking know.’ Here, I don’t think about it. I don’t have to think about it.
You don’t have to define yourself or put yourself in a labeled category. What’s the first album you ever bought?
MIC: Ever? It was Queen: Live at Wembley. It was when I first got CD player. The first album I bought. When I first got my first CD player for Christmas, I got C+C Music Factory’s CD single for whatever the fuck that song was. So I could only listen to one song, and I needed to buy a full album so I went for a double record. I used to play that record over and over and over in the basement with my cousin Tim. So much so when I finally heard the recorded versions of all those Queen songs, I didn’t like them as much as the live version.
Were you playing music when you were a kid?
MIC: No, not at all until middle school. I had a falling out with my closest friends and started playing guitar. That was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I wish I could relive age 14 to 18 again. Because, holy fuck, they must have been some of the best years ever. I got to listen to all these records that are complete formative classics for the first fucking time. You know how people say, ‘Man, I wish I could go back in time and erase my memory so I could watch Game of Thrones’ again or something?
I say that all the time.
MIC: Could you imagine actually going back and knowing what you were in for and having never heard Ziggy Stardust and being like, ‘Wow.’ That’s where I hope modern medicine is going, to erase my memory.
There’s also something about that particular age and music. The music I listened to from 14 to 18 saved my life. The musicians you listen to become your best friends. They’re as important as the people you see on a daily basis.
MIC: Totally true. Now with people that age, they have so much more
Is there anyone who’s mainstream-popular now you really like?
MIC: I thought some of The Weeknd’s songs were all right…
Until you heard them ten thousand times.
MIC: I really liked that Sia song that came out last year. “Chandelier.” The relationship with the artist is lost on me in pop music. I don’t have one with any pop stars. Do you know what I mean? Whereas someone like David Bowie, I had a personal relationship with him. No matter what he delegated out, it was undeniably David Bowie’s songs always.