Interview: PIMMER strikes thematic platinum with ‘Distant Dam’

Sanford Schaffer creates elastic musical tension with “Distant Dam.” The resonant, chewy little tune about the pressures of continental economics tickles the senses as it seeps its way through the digestive system and into the bloodstream. As frontperson to PIMMER, an indie-rock outfit, Schaffer makes great use of space and lyrical vividness to craft a message song that deftly pairs “two distinct chord progressions that trade-off major to minor tonality – and this was the activated complex,” he shares of why he wrote the song to begin with. “That is why. Reaching the apex of tension within the music theory is generally the motive, unless lyrics come first, which is a bit less common.”

As the initial song for PIMMER, “Distant Dam” essentially wrote itself – “not super uncommon in songwriting,” Schaffer tells B-Sides & Badlands over email. “Rarely, if ever, do I require a specific or tangible motive for writing. I’m certainly not an ‘oh it was a sad time, or someone died, or I got depressed and imprisoned and now I want to make an album out of it’ sort of writer.”

Upon reading an economics article, which fanned the flames of his worldview, the singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist pushed through to pen the lyrics. “The article was ancillary to the songwriting, and not my worldview,” he explains. “The music was already ‘up on the lift’ but the article provided imagery and a viable ‘notion’ to push on and write the lyrics.”

As the song’s central narrator is described as having a “rootless existence,” not uncommon in today’s troubled times, Schaffer guns for a strictly detached way of performance to relay the story. “Narration is something to consider seriously while songwriting. I tend to avoid the more obvious and overdone first-person narratives and the simple reason for that is because I don’t believe anyone cares what I think,” he reflects. “Still, all the writing is quite personal, it’s just that I tend to keep that particular facet out of the stream of consciousness. So, the narrator’s rootless existence had nothing to do with me, personally, it was merely a more effective vehicle to discuss the world at large.”

“Distant Dam” twinkles with percussive radiation, allowing Schaffer’s voice to poke through like TV static to accentuate the song’s overarching emotional currency. “A distant dam provides the power to the city,” he sings. Guitars braid together into a rustic, folksy fabric that gives the lyrics an even-keeled backdrop on which to tumble and then rearrange. It’s an alarmingly urgent performance, proving that Schaffer’s time in the spotlight has now arrived with bright clarity.

“Distant Dam” anchors a brand new album, Halcyon 303, out now.

Below, Sanford Schaffer discusses the album, its impact on songwriting, and signing with Mint 400 Records.

With rooting in “a distant hydroelectric dam” idea, did our impact on the world serve as an emotional driver of the song, too?

With this song, as with many others, poignant lyrics and creating musical tension are the main drivers, while depicting a foggy image of the power grid.

As the album opener, how does it prime the listener for what’s to come next?

Hopefully, by demonstrating a somewhat lush production and sound; a pulsing, upbeat feel; simple, memorable melodies; and fat guitar tones. Hopefully, these things bind the album and are common denominators.

Musically, did it always have this jangly, crystalline feel to the arrangement/instruments?

No. At the start, there were much cleaner Fender guitars; the dynamics were quieter; the recordings had less kinetic energy; songs were longer and the tempos slower. This was all done in an effort to shed my heavy-metal-skin from the previous band. I wanted to reinvent myself. During the 3rd or 4th session with Ducky Carlisle, in Boston, we began recording multiple guitar tracks with class-A tube amps (Vox and Hi-Watts). Around this time, I’d also begun experimenting with odd guitar tunings and chord voicings, including installing different strings where they did not belong, and this allowed for unexpected droning possibilities.

As a result, the songs began to take on a noticeably different persona and energy. Once the melding of the developed, shorter songs and the multi-tracking approach was in place, we kinda noticed we were onto something interesting… Since then, things have continued to get more jangly and crystalline–and heated. The template had been drawn.

The old adage goes that you have your entire life to make your first record. Does it feel like your entire life/music career has led to this moment?

In a funny way, it does – and it’s not just cliche. I stopped playing gigs and making records with bands years ago, but because I’d learned my way around the recording studio and could sort of play the various instruments, I began to make solo records. It was rather blissful; and each session with Ducky seemed to ratchet up the game, however slightly. As the years wore on, recording frequency also increased. What started out as maybe one big recording project every two or three years steadily grew to an output of at least two EPs every single year where it remains to this day.

However, there were never any “record release” parties or hoopla. If CDs were printed up, they would just become drink coasters in my apartment, sadly. It was all about the work: Write, rehearse, record, then get on to the next… Technically, this “first record” represents selections from four or five previous records – but it does not include anything current — the next album will. But to answer the question, yes, this is a fine moment any which way you cut it.

What does the rest of the album feel and sound like?

The feel and sound varies, naturally, due to the tracks being from disparate sessions over the years. The older tracks are from the alt-country phase: To My Cat With Apologies, We’re Not Home Now, and Halcyon 303. Next is the current crystal-crunch-noise-pop phase: Where the Dragonflies Fly, Radio Silence, Tonight!, and Clever Girl. Next release will be essentially all new material and may have a more focused sound, theoretically.

Was signing with Mint 400 a no-brainer?

It was. I liked the outfit right off the bat and liked ‘em even more once they reached out and we had a chance to talk. The entire experience was totally organic, yet in another sense, it was a bit magical, since everything literally unfolded, soup-to-nuts, within the space of four or five weeks.

Plus, there was the startling fact that the whole thing was totally unexpected to begin with. Since signing on, my musical world and ambition have been reborn, and totally recalibrated.

What was it about them that made you say yes?

I made a pit stop to meet the folks from Mint400 Records at a New Jersey cigar club during a jaunt out to upstate New York. At this point in time, lawyers for each side had been going back and forth on the contract language. Now, I was pretty much set on signing on regardless, but my lawyer was a stickler – as he should be – so the administration took a bit longer than I thought, but everyone came to terms, and it was a done deal on March 27th, 2024. Still, it was really on the day I met Neil and Reese personally where I was convinced there should be no turning back. With some people, you can just tell. My lawyer even remarked quite candidly during a teleconference, referring to Neil, “…He’s doing God’s work.”

What did you learn most from Ducky?

Ducky was a very special guy. He’s right up there with one of the more important people in my life, because he was, in fact, my musical guardian angel. It all began back in the year 2000: He was the one that gave me the confidence to make my first solo record; and he never charged me anything close to his house rates. I learned how to record and mix using two-inch tape. After the fire of 2004, he switched to ProTools and I learned that medium, too. I also learned how easy the usually dreadful job of recording is when you love your engineer, and he loves you.

What is your personal takeaway from making this album?

Halcyon 303′ is an anthology and not a typical record, so there were no specific or real-time takeaways heretofore. However, overarching takeaways exist now: For instance, looking back on things, I’m glad to have stuck with it – all alone – through the years. The hard part is done. And it’s become even clearer I had a guiding force in Ducky, which allowed me to continue developing the writing and producing. The fact that there were regular compulsions to take on the rather complex task of recording albums alone must say something–I just wish I knew what? In my own mind, I guess, it seemed to be worth doing (and to continue doing), because at this point, I simply don’t have the time to fuck around if something isn’t.

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