'We're Just Pretty Honest And Don't Try And Bullshit Anyone'

Hockey Dad

The lives of the two young men behind Wollongong rock sensation Hockey Dad were turned on their heads when their 2016 album Boronia - named for the street the two childhood friends grew up in and still live in between growing band obligations - went slow-burn gangbusters, sending them on an ever-busier spiral of tours (both at home and abroad) and festivals, which found them spending less and less time at home. 

The duo - Zach Stephenson (vocals/guitar) and Billy Fleming (drums/vocals) - were having a blast from a musical perspective but finding it harder and harder to reconcile band life with the experiences of their other mates, which is the inspiration behind the title of their brand new second long-player, Blend Inn.

"It just relates to - like most of the things on the record - how our lives have been different to most of our friends' 22-year-old lives," Stephenson reflects, "and how we have to try and have the same life experience, and I guess try to grow up the same way, but you're always stuck in a hotel in Bumfuck, Texas or something.

"And how it's hard to relate to everyone a little bit when they're at home doing the same stuff, and you've got to try to look the same as everybody else and try to blend in with everybody - it's a bit tough."

But while reconciling their band and home lives may have proved difficult, musically the guys took the dreaded difficult second album syndrome in their stride, concocting an album that expands upon the indubitable promise offered by the surf-drenched sounds of their debut. "We didn't really feel any pressure," Stephenson tells. "We maybe even felt that the pressure was a little bit off this time because we'd already done a record and built up a bit of a fanbase so we could actually just dive into the record and not worry too much about it, I guess.

"And I think it felt a little bit more legit recording this one, because we were in a big studio with a producer and we went the whole nine yards so it felt like we had to step it up a little bit. Although we still fucked around a bit in the studio and did everything else exactly the same, so it was mostly pretty natural."

The "big studio" in question was Robert Lang Studios, 12 miles north of Seattle, where the pair worked with the acclaimed producer John Goodmanson (Bikini Kill, Cloud Nothings, Sleater-Kinney).

"It was a really good experience," Stephenson offers. "We definitely felt really privileged to be able to go overseas and hang out in Seattle for a few weeks, and just be able to record and bum around. Not many people get the chance to do that so we were pretty stoked. It was good, we felt we really had to make a good record otherwise we won't ever live it down."

Although Stephenson does concede it was unnerving recording in a room where bands like Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains and The Sonics had cut seminal records. "Yeah, it was weird," he laughs. "It was kinda scary and really humbling, and daunting as well. With some of the stuff that was done there you'd go, 'Fuck, we're never going to touch any of that, in terms of songs or the sounds.' But it was really good inspiration as well, because we'd listen to a record that was done there in the night and hear something cool, and then try to do our own version of that the next day in the same room it was recorded in, which was fun.

"And John definitely let us go for it. We'd just jump into it and then he'd come in at a certain time, and tell us where to put something. Definitely with the guitar playing and some of the drums, we were pretty much full throttle - just going at 'em all the time - and John helped us scale things back and leave some room.

"He was good like that and he definitely helped a bit with guitar parts later on - just like where to play things and where not to play things - because we'd just sort of go at it and put too much shit everywhere."

Apart from geography, a slightly altered creative process also affected the finished product. "This record was a little bit different," Stephenson offers. "Most of the songs I did just at home sort of straight into my laptop, just sort of bumming around with ideas and then making a song. Then I'd send it to Billy and he'd get an idea for it, and think of some drum parts, and then when we'd get the chance we'd get together and jam it out and see if it worked.

"But that's the thing, sometimes a song never got jammed and we just went into the studio and sort of went to it, which was definitely different to the last record where most of the songs were written by us at rehearsal with each other and jammed out like that.

"[The change] was partly because we were busy, then also because I started writing it in summer and it's fucking hot in my shed where we used to jam - there's no way we're playing in there in summer," he chuckles. "Then I just got comfortable sitting on my computer chair, and it sort of helped because I had so many sounds and ideas that I could just make up second guitar parts and things like that. There's a lot more of that this time, just sitting at home and overdubbing shit. Then more ideas could be thrown around instead of just having a chord progression and a melody, you could actually put different things in there."

The lyrics, however, hark back to that problem the guys were having juggling their divergent lives in the band and at home. "I guess they reflect just the time that they were all written in and what we were both sorta going through," Stephenson tells. "We would be on the road for a while and then have a month off at home, and that's pretty much when I'd write all the songs, so a lot of them have to do with just dealing with shit while you're on the road and stuff going on at home [when] you can't really be there, and just that weird feeling of growing up and not actually living in one particular set place for a certain period of time: just being away from it, but just trying to grow up and do your job a bit."

And why does Stephenson feel that Hockey Dad are connecting with people on such a gut level, especially at live shows? "I dunno, we're just pretty honest and don't try and bullshit anyone," he smiles. "And I think the fact that we're having so much fun playing and touring around all the time might inspire people to just relax a bit and enjoy it."