Greg Hoy Interview
Q: Your self-titled release Greg Hoy & The Boys is a whopping twenty-three songs. I miss double albums and feel like they are a relic of the past in some ways. Why did you decide to release a double album?
A: There’s a thrill to opening and holding a gatefold album! Many of my favorite recordings span across two LPs — Beatles, The Wall, Public Enemy's Apocalypse, NIN's The Fragile, GBV's “Under The Bushes Under The Stars.”
At the first recording session at Tiny Telephone, the notebook of my lyrics had Under the Highway Under the Stairs scrawled in pen on the cover which was what I originally wanted to call the album. My studio partner Jacob Winik has engineered everything I've recorded there — solo stuff, The Royal Panics, GH&TheBs FOMO YOLO ONO - and we decided Tiny Telephone is under the 101 highway and my basement studio where the songs would be finished is under the front stairs of the house!
It's also my middle finger to the acceptance of the 'sound bite' attention span. There is value to digging in, in putting on a selection of songs or looking at a piece of art created in the context towards a larger narrative. So yeah, it's a lot of songs, but it's still shorter than a shitty in-flight movie, and it still fits on a single cassette, too.
As it stands, seven or so tracks didn't even make the final tracking. I got on a roll writing and recording this past year. And let's face it: a gatefold cover serves multiple purposes — you can't clean your weed on an MP3.
Q: Can you talk about the creative process for this record?
A: A few of the songs had been kicking around and had even been performed live. Most of what ended up on the album came about in two major ways, both of which have a commonality of being built up from a 'drum parts come first' workflow.
The first way songs were created was through recording loose demos. My mom had passed away a few months prior to the initial session. She'd wrestled for many years with dementia. During our last visits, putting on the music that she and I had listened to when I was young helped lift her spirits. It gave us an alternate language with which to communicate.
As I recovered from her passing, I began demoing tracks. I'd mic up and play drums in the basement, playing along to those songs to which my mom and I had listened together. I recorded these drum performances and stripped away the original song.
Those parts then became the skeletons around which new guitar parts and vocal melodies were written — so in addition to feeling like I was creating something together along with my mom, I was literally playing along to Led Zeppelin, INXS, Men At Work, Huey Lewis, Van Halen. It's why there's saxophone on two of the tunes! (Thanks DJ Purple). The band then learned those demos and the songs got fleshed out in the studio.
The second major way happened during one of the TT sessions. We took my 'drumming along to other songs' idea a step further. Drummer Jason Slota sat at his drums in the tracking room wearing headphones. We rolled tape as I randomly flicked through Spotify playing him a minute or so of various other artists while he quickly nodded and began drumming along.
Jacob and I were cracking up watching through the glass — he was forced to quickly context switch from N.W.A. to N.E.R.D. to Devo to The Cranberries to Don Caballero to Outkast. After about twenty minutes of drum performance committed to tape, we digitized the multi tracks. Then I took the drums home on a hard drive and carved out various loops from them around which I wrote new songs.
Q: Are there any reoccurring themes and concepts that run through the album?
A: Musically, I love melody and big drums. The lyrics are all over the place: time, love, endings, the state of the world, death. There's some obvious jabs at our failed institutions and the oblivious greed of humanity. We're all fiddling while the world burns at this point, aren't we?
Q: Your self-titled release Greg Hoy & The Boys is a whopping twenty-three songs. I miss double albums and feel like they are a relic of the past in some ways. Why did you decide to release a double album?
A: There’s a thrill to opening and holding a gatefold album! Many of my favorite recordings span across two LPs — Beatles, The Wall, Public Enemy's Apocalypse, NIN's The Fragile, GBV's “Under The Bushes Under The Stars.”
At the first recording session at Tiny Telephone, the notebook of my lyrics had Under the Highway Under the Stairs scrawled in pen on the cover which was what I originally wanted to call the album. My studio partner Jacob Winik has engineered everything I've recorded there — solo stuff, The Royal Panics, GH&TheBs FOMO YOLO ONO - and we decided Tiny Telephone is under the 101 highway and my basement studio where the songs would be finished is under the front stairs of the house!
It's also my middle finger to the acceptance of the 'sound bite' attention span. There is value to digging in, in putting on a selection of songs or looking at a piece of art created in the context towards a larger narrative. So yeah, it's a lot of songs, but it's still shorter than a shitty in-flight movie, and it still fits on a single cassette, too.
As it stands, seven or so tracks didn't even make the final tracking. I got on a roll writing and recording this past year. And let's face it: a gatefold cover serves multiple purposes — you can't clean your weed on an MP3.
Q: Can you talk about the creative process for this record?
A: A few of the songs had been kicking around and had even been performed live. Most of what ended up on the album came about in two major ways, both of which have a commonality of being built up from a 'drum parts come first' workflow.
The first way songs were created was through recording loose demos. My mom had passed away a few months prior to the initial session. She'd wrestled for many years with dementia. During our last visits, putting on the music that she and I had listened to when I was young helped lift her spirits. It gave us an alternate language with which to communicate.
As I recovered from her passing, I began demoing tracks. I'd mic up and play drums in the basement, playing along to those songs to which my mom and I had listened together. I recorded these drum performances and stripped away the original song.
Those parts then became the skeletons around which new guitar parts and vocal melodies were written — so in addition to feeling like I was creating something together along with my mom, I was literally playing along to Led Zeppelin, INXS, Men At Work, Huey Lewis, Van Halen. It's why there's saxophone on two of the tunes! (Thanks DJ Purple). The band then learned those demos and the songs got fleshed out in the studio.
The second major way happened during one of the TT sessions. We took my 'drumming along to other songs' idea a step further. Drummer Jason Slota sat at his drums in the tracking room wearing headphones. We rolled tape as I randomly flicked through Spotify playing him a minute or so of various other artists while he quickly nodded and began drumming along.
Jacob and I were cracking up watching through the glass — he was forced to quickly context switch from N.W.A. to N.E.R.D. to Devo to The Cranberries to Don Caballero to Outkast. After about twenty minutes of drum performance committed to tape, we digitized the multi tracks. Then I took the drums home on a hard drive and carved out various loops from them around which I wrote new songs.
Q: Are there any reoccurring themes and concepts that run through the album?
A: Musically, I love melody and big drums. The lyrics are all over the place: time, love, endings, the state of the world, death. There's some obvious jabs at our failed institutions and the oblivious greed of humanity. We're all fiddling while the world burns at this point, aren't we?
Q: I’m interested to hear where you think some of the musical influence for this album came from? It seemed like the album would work nicely in a playlist with rock/pop bands from the ’90s.
A: Funny you mention this: a few other folks have thrown around a '90s comparison. Maybe that's the last time bands were paying attention to melody, sitting in a room and performing together? They played as bands and were weaned on stuff like The Who, The Kinks, The Beatles, Big Star, Cheap Trick.
As far as the ’90s go, Nirvana still stands up because they wrote catchy songs. I'd argue Stone Temple Pilots second record Purple might be the last classic rock album. Even some of those grunge-clone one hit wonders had a lot going for them in the catchy department. It's the decade in which I became an adult so maybe my flannel flag still flies.
Q: Out of the twenty-three songs are there any you feel have more of a “single worthy” quality?
A: We're working on a video for “(Keep Feeling) Caffeination.” I like “Someday Could Be Today.” There's already a video for “Tied Up For Last” about our clown-town political climate. Speaking of climate, “Baby The World's On Fire” is a fun one.
Q: I was reading about some of the other projects you have going on like the solo album. What else should we know about your music?
A: Making stuff keeps me grounded and connected. I'd posit intense creativity is the only thing that's going to save the species. People need to tap into their own artistic selves and get back to doing things with their hands. I don't mean Instagram posts and cat.gifs (even though those things are fun).
Creating reminds you how fragile our existence here really is. It indirectly pushes you towards a more collective agenda of doing things for a greater good. At this point in our story, that greater good is survival. The least I can do is sing about it.
A: Funny you mention this: a few other folks have thrown around a '90s comparison. Maybe that's the last time bands were paying attention to melody, sitting in a room and performing together? They played as bands and were weaned on stuff like The Who, The Kinks, The Beatles, Big Star, Cheap Trick.
As far as the ’90s go, Nirvana still stands up because they wrote catchy songs. I'd argue Stone Temple Pilots second record Purple might be the last classic rock album. Even some of those grunge-clone one hit wonders had a lot going for them in the catchy department. It's the decade in which I became an adult so maybe my flannel flag still flies.
Q: Out of the twenty-three songs are there any you feel have more of a “single worthy” quality?
A: We're working on a video for “(Keep Feeling) Caffeination.” I like “Someday Could Be Today.” There's already a video for “Tied Up For Last” about our clown-town political climate. Speaking of climate, “Baby The World's On Fire” is a fun one.
Q: I was reading about some of the other projects you have going on like the solo album. What else should we know about your music?
A: Making stuff keeps me grounded and connected. I'd posit intense creativity is the only thing that's going to save the species. People need to tap into their own artistic selves and get back to doing things with their hands. I don't mean Instagram posts and cat.gifs (even though those things are fun).
Creating reminds you how fragile our existence here really is. It indirectly pushes you towards a more collective agenda of doing things for a greater good. At this point in our story, that greater good is survival. The least I can do is sing about it.