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Converge's eighth album, All We Love We Leave Behind, is out October 9 on Epitaph (with a vinyl edition on vocalist Jacob Bannon's Deathwish Inc.). AWLWLB follows Axe to Fall, a record that landed at the No. 1 spot of my 2009 year-end list. Unlike Axe, which found the group joined by a list of collaborators that included members of Cave In, Disfear, Genghis Tron, the Red Chord, Neurosis, and others, this one doesn't feature outside guests. It's a streamlined, live-sounding collection recorded and mixed by guitarist Kurt Ballou-- he and the core band handled all aspects of the production. As Ballou put it, "There's no artificial distortion, triggers, or Auto-Tune on this album. It's all organic, it's real sounds that capture the way the band performs live."

I caught up with Bannon and spoke to him about the new record, growing older, and, in the end, not leaving what you love behind. Above, take a listen to AWLWLB's "Shame in the Way", a song Bannon says is about "feeling fragmented from the traditional concept of family." He adds, "As I've gotten older, I've worked on mending the things I can, while being conscious of the things I can't repair."

Photo by Thomas Sweertvaegher

Pitchfork: In the last Decibel, [guitarist/producer] Kurt [Ballou] says All We Love We Leave Behind is more like a singles record than past releases. He meant the songs have equal weight, but you could take it in a different way: This is catchy material. In any case, do you agree with him?

Jacob Bannon: I agree with his observation. Though a song may race by in a minute and a half, every aspect of it is calculated and intentional. I don't feel that our band is becoming any more accessible though. If anything, I feel that the current generation of listeners of heavy music are progressing a bit passed their gateway bands and are digging deeper than they used to and understanding more abrasive and complex music and art. It's like being around an unfamiliar language long enough that it eventually begins to make sense.

Pitchfork: It's an intense LP, and it feels anthemic-- different kinds of anthems. The slower track "Coral Blue" offers an interesting change of pace. How'd that one come about?

JB: Kurt was kicking around the foundation of that song for a good while. One night he played it for us, but he wasn't sure it was right for our band. The rest of us loved it, and together we all worked to make the song its final form. Its structure is different than most songs, but it definitely has a kinship with some other songs we've created together on other albums. It's powerful to me, but not a departure.

"For me, hardcore is simply unapologetic music, free of rules.

By that definition, we are a hardcore band."

Pitchfork: The title track is a mix of old-school hardcore and something more post-rock. I don't know that naming genres is all that interesting in 2012, but hardcore does lay down a template that goes beyond sound-- it's a way of life. At this point, how important is hardcore to you? The music, but also the life that goes with it. For instance, you still don't have a manager, right?

JB: We have no need for managers. All of the people who work with us on the non-music end of things are friends that we can trust. Many we've been close with for decades now. Like all bands, we have our own ethical compass that guides us and we use that to make decisions. From what I've witnessed, managers at this level are divisive and allow musicians to become clouded, irresponsible, and unaware of the world around them. We are the opposite. We want to be aware and self sufficient, but that comes from ensuring that things are done correctly for our band.

And I agree, genres aren't that relevant. Nearly every form of music is a melting pot of things of things. If I am speaking to someone unfamiliar with this world of music, I say we are an aggressive band. People usually understand that, but there is also sonic depth to what we do that the "aggressive" definition misses. Since we started writing music that I considered relevant (maybe 1993 or 1994), there have been melodious elements, and experimentation in our sound. We've made conscious efforts to make our music have those dynamics. I'm not sure how that relates to how others define "hardcore", but for me personally, hardcore is simply unapologetic music, free of rules. By that definition, we are a hardcore band.

Pitchfork: Speaking of keeping it in the band, there are no outside collaborators this time. Was this something you decided upon beforehand or did it happen organically?

JB: A bit of both. The Axe to Fall album was that collaborative concept taken to the extreme, and I really enjoy what we created. Though we are all happy with that record, it also left us as a band wanting to create a record as the band that we are on our own. This album is a return to that for us. The whole process just felt right.

Pitchfork: It's a rawer record. Were you looking to capture a more live sound? Was there a sense of scaling back?

JB: With every recording so far, we've strived to present our band with the same energy that we have in a live setting. Ironically, making that all come together on tape is easier said than done. It takes a lot of takes to get things right. I feel that with every session Kurt evolves more as an engineer, and that only helps us get closer to achieving that goal. I think that we are getting there for sure. For the most part we are a "no frills" band when it comes to recording already, so there isn't much to scale back.

Pitchfork: In general, how has Kurt's production impacted your sound?

JB: All of us are very specific in what we want to hear, but we started this band when we were in our early teens (we are in our mid/late 30s now). When we were kids, we had no idea how to attain the sounds we wanted. As we've gotten older and gained more experience we've become better at communicating as artists and playing technically as musicians. The same could be said for Kurt as an engineer as well. He is always a student of that world, and he's always learning new things and applying them to his work as an engineer. He's learned how to get the best out of us and we are grateful for that.

"As a band, we usually zig when everyone else zags-- that's just part of the collective adversarial relationship we have with most things."

Pitchfork: In the press release, you say: "There are a lot of subtle nuances on this record that are really special to us… and we definitely hit those individually on this record." Can you explain these nuances?

JB: There are a great deal of musical dynamics in these songs. Vocals and lyrics intertwine with the ebb and flow of the music much more so than they have in the past. For me as one of the artists making the record, this made things much more dramatic, much more cohesive than previous records. I don't listen back often, but when I do, I want to be moved by what we created together, and I am with this record.

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Pitchfork: All We Love We Leave Behind is an evocative title. Can you discuss the album's lyrical content? It's the longest title since the pre-Jane Doe days.

JB: As a writer, I never paid much attention to the length of titles. I've just wanted them to communicate the emotional overtones of the content of a record or song that they are describing. It's sort of a form of artistic tunnel vision in a way. After we released some records with longer titles in the mid/late 90s, there was a trend of sorts surfacing with bands doing similar things. At that point, we chose to do the opposite beginning with Jane Doe. As a band, we usually zig when everyone else zags. I think that's just part of the collective adversarial relationship we have with most things.

The title comes from a song on the album with the same name. The song is an open letter to the things that I feel I've left behind in order to pursue an artistic and musical direction in my life. I don't regret the decisions or direction I've chosen, but I feel it's important to be self aware. That song and this album is part of that process for me. Specifically, I was motivated to write those lyrics a few days after I lost one of my dogs [Anna Belle] to old age. She was my best friend for a very long time in my life. I missed a lot of her life because I was traveling. That concept really sank in with me when I was holding her as she passed on.

Pitchfork: I'm also curious about the lunar cycles of the cover art. It feels like "time" is a theme here.

JB: Time is always fleeting and the lunar phases represent that visually for me. What people take away from that and how they apply it within their own lives, that's entirely up to them. I imagine it depends on where you are at in your life and the aspirations you carry.

"Contrary to popular belief, we have a sense of humor.

We are all experts in sarcasm."

Pitchfork: Torche and Kvelertak are intriguing choices for tour mates. Both are known for their senses of humor, and poppier sounds. How'd you decide on them?

JB: We've known Steve from Torche for a long time. Years ago, his previous band Floor played with Converge, and we got along well. Since then we've all been friends in some capacity. Torche has also had Kurt record and mix records for them on a few occasions. Kvelertak are friends of ours as well. After Kurt recorded their debut album we took them on their first tour in Europe. Shortly after, they exploded in popularity in Europe. Now seems like a good time to reintroduce them to people in the States.

Both bands have a sense of humor, but contrary to popular belief, we do as well. Though we are a complex and dark band artistically, you will rarely overhear us have a serious conversation between the four of us. We are all experts in sarcasm.

Pitchfork: How important is the live experience to you?

JB: It's important me as a musician and also as an occasional show goer. To feel the presence of a band on stage, to hear a PA reverberating and slapping off the walls, the push and pull of an audience, the blood, sweat, and heat. It's a primal thing in a way. I feel that people who are new to punk/hardcore don't truly understand the music and the role it plays in people's lives until they experience that environment for themselves.

Pitchfork: What's it been like seeing old favorites like American Nightmare and Quicksand return? You guys have been around a long time, and haven't broken up-- it offers a unique perspective on things.

JB: I feel that bands can do whatever they want, after all, they own themselves and the art/music they create. With that said, being in a band can be stressful. The inability to manage that pressure has led to the premature implosion of many of them.

All of these bands have different reasons for coming back. For some it's a healing process between members, a proper goodbye; for others, it is about having fun; and for others it's about making money. The one truth in all of it is that there is apparent audience demand for these things. There is a new generation of listeners that have related to this music and they want to experience it first hand.

This sort of thing has been happening in Europe for decades now in punk rock and hardcore; reunions and what not. I find it interesting that now these things are finally hitting hard in the States that there is some debate about the concept.

Pitchfork: Speaking of which: Jane Doe still surfaces a lot. What is it about that album, do you think, that's allowed it to age so well?

JB: You would have to ask the appreciators of the album in order to get a proper answer. Being a partial creator of the album, I am bias. For me, it's an album that is built on potent personal emotion, and I can't really see passed that aspect of it. How people relate to it and process that is entirely up to them; creators have no control over that. I'm just honored that people relate to what we do at all.

Pitchfork: Last time out, the album leaked, and you guys exposed who leaked it, which I appreciated. How'd you approach the promo period differently this time?

JB: We didn't do much at all regarding the previous leak. All music leaks. We thanked the person publicly for leaking the album and that took away their anonymity, which is the most valued thing on the internet. At that point, public debate ensued. The volatility towards the leaker was something that came from others, not us. We never carried that opinion. We were just happy that people were enjoying our record.

As to what we do differently, not much really. Epitaph still have the same practices when it comes to distributing advance music to people, and their policies are strict. All it really did was bring the subject that press is generally the source of most leaks to the forefront.

Pitchfork: As someone older, and who's been involved in this for a long time (I put on my first hardcore show when I was 15, in 1989), I don't get "first" culture. What are your thoughts on the way music culture's shifted since the band started?

JB: The "first" culture you describe is interesting. They may be the first to acquire something, but likely the last to truly listen and experience a record as it is meant to be. I feel that people spend as much time skipping songs as they do listening to them in their library. The relationship that people have with music is entirely different now. People spend much less time experiencing music on a one on one level than they could have if they were a part of a different generation. I find this ironic since we have so many tools at our finger tips to be engaged by media in all forms.

Pitchfork: You talked about time passing via the cycles of the moon, being on tour and losing your dog to old age. "Predatory Glow" ends the album with this: "Let the future know/ I won't be there tomorrow/ let the past know/ I gave them my all/ I’m aching for an end/ grown thinner every day/ I bow down to you/ extinguished youth." These themes seem to be everywhere on the album-- the end of youth, the beginning of old age.

JB: The song "Predatory Glow" is my exploration of that vulnerability and inevitability. It's not the main thrust of things for me, but it is something that I do think about from time to time. I am far from an "old" person in human terms, however I've spent over half my life immersed in the punk rock and hardcore community. I am not wholly defined by that as a person, but it is something that has been part of me for a long time. With that said, the community is based in youth culture for the most part. Everyday that passes I am pulled from youth as how it has been defined by that culture into something else. It's a strange place to exist in, I feel adrift at times. I think that other artists and musicians can understand the psychological space that I am describing.

Pitchfork: I feel like you're a certain age group's Ian MacKaye.

JB: Aside from the hairline, we have little in common. The only real similarity I see is that we have both gone out and created things within an alternative subculture. That's what the DIY ethic is all about. It's not self congratulatory, it's all about forward movement.

Pitchfork: Can you imagine doing Converge forever?

JB: The band has been there so long that it feels like a constant presence. I've said it before: The day that we no longer feel inspired to create music and art together, we would theoretically walk away and concentrate on other things.

Pitchfork: You guys are quickly approaching your 25th year. Any big plans?

JB: No. I've never been a fan of bands that go out and celebrate their age, I'd rather be celebrated for being relevant.

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Since last time, we've posted tracks from Ash Borer, William Fowler Collins, Gaza, Early Graves, Silent Servant, Aluk Todolo, Rabbits, Weapon, Yakuza, Winterfylleth, Atriarch, and Hooded Menace. Speaking of the latter, it's been getting colder here in NYC, and finally feeling like Halloween; take a listen to Hooded Menace's Effigies of Evil, a doom soundtrack for haunted houses.

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Kenny Doren, a close friend of more than 15 years, passed away over the weekend. Kenny was a visual artist who did beautiful, strange things with video and music. He was also a great husband to his wife Gayle, a soon-to-be father, and an amazing all-around guy. Way back when, it was Kenny who inspired me to quit my day job and try to make a living as a writer. And he inspired me in countless other ways since. He'll be missed.