"The youthful quartet, who've been successfully campaigning for the title of SF's new indie rock darlings, charmed their way through their early Beatles-y repertoire so winningly we could almost hear the Wonder Years voiceover as they left the stage."
--Spin Magazine
So the story sounds a little familiar. At least at first, as George Lewis Jr. recalls his 10-round bout with writer’s block, a struggle that was broken by searching the streets of Berlin for the ghosts of Bowie, Reed and Pop. Because that’s what artists do when they get tired of playing rock ’n’ roll, right? They revisit the point where the gods of glam and four-alarm guitars discovered such groove-riding Germans as Cluster, Kraftwerk and Can.
“The whole experience of living in Berlin was very cinematic,” explains Lewis Jr., “reinforcing the idea of being in a place where you can indulge just about any fantasy, creatively and personally. What I wanted to do came out with such clarity once I got back to Brooklyn—I spit a bunch of songs out right away.”
A couple standout recordings from those early bedroom sessions are “Yellow Balloon” and “Castles In the Snow,”. These songs also serve as the phantasmagoric foundation for a forthcoming LP of new songs that’ll be released through Chris Taylor’s (Grizzly Bear) Terrible Records later this year. Driven by brittle drum breaks, crystallized keys, rubber-soled bass lines and galloping guitar chords, the double A-side single is a poppy but peculiar introduction to Twin Shadow. The solo project took on a life of its own last year, as Lewis Jr. found his calling amid a steady diet of laser-guided synth lines and layered loops.
“I remember the first time someone sat me down and made me listen to an entire Kraftwerk record,” says Lewis Jr. “I think it was The Man Machine. Anyway, I freaked out over it, because it made me realize why I loved David Bowie’s Low for so many years. I mean, I still listen to Led Zeppelin at least twice a week, but I don’t want to hear someone trying to do that anymore.”
He also doesn’t want to hold anything back after many years of bouncing between bands and exploring the tone poem side of songwriting with the Bill T Jones Dance Company and Lewis Forever, an ongoing performance art project with his three sisters. One of which is his twin, although that doesn’t quite explain the Twin Shadow name. Think of it as a movie title instead—a film adaptation of Bowie’s Berlin years, as filtered through the waking dream lens of David Lynch.
“It’s kinda crazy how new all of this is to me,” he says. “Everything is very spontaneous. That’s the other thing I learned in Berlin—that it’s okay to change, because it’s all connected in some way. Whatever I learn today is something I’m going to apply tomorrow. The tough thing is finding some cohesion. But that’s okay. Musicians who don’t evolve can only be a part of our cultural existence for so long, you know?”