Interview: Van der Saar shakes you awake
Allan Lewis digs in his heels on his new EP, ‘Knights.’
Sometimes, a song requires disjointed layers and textures to punctuate its meaning and intent. Van der Saar (real name Allan Lewis) configures his song “Truck Flattener,” off his Knights EP, with jangly and “weird parts that push and pull against each other, and melodic ideas to help hold things in place,” Lewis tells B-Sides & Badlands over email. “Melody is king, whether it’s sung or played. It’s the glue. It can wrestle any dissonance back from the brink. Think of a song like ‘The Diamond Sea’ by Sonic Youth. When that main melodic riff returns at the end of the noise jam I put my hands up in the air like my team’s just scored.”
“Truck Flattener” casts its sonic plates into the cosmos, transmitting a potent electricity that wouldn’t have been possible any other way. Hinting at violence in the song’s lyrics, he relays a story about “when you’re out having a good time, people you aren’t expecting will turn up and change the vibe,” he says. “Sometimes, they’re wearing uniforms. You can get stuck trying to prove yourself to these people and waiting for them to take you seriously, which isn’t always the best plan, especially later at night.”
As an essential from Knights, the cobbled-together guitar track anchors the project as the “the most motivated song,” he says. “It’s the engine. It’s got some gas to it and keeps the other tunes moving along.”
“Truck Flattener” barrels down the tracks like a runaway train. It’s only tamed by Lewis’ measured, even-keeled vocal. His voice haunts the space between the melody and production, as though a ghost rattling rusted chains to get the listener to actually pay attention. Guitars bristle in the echoing vault of time and redemption, clawing and jarringly eerie. The sum of its parts seems to throb through the listener’s body. It sends sparks, and you’re left deeply unsettled. That’s the nature of Lewis’ music, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Van der Saar’s Knights EP is out now.
Below, Allan Lewis discusses the EP’s central themes, the catharsis of writing, and the hardest lesson learned in music-making.
What themes does the EP reflect?
‘Knights’ is about watching people’s lives unfold (friends, children) and sometimes unravel, and interpreting my responses to those things. When I was recording, I was thinking a lot about the mistakes I’ve made in life to the point where I was writing little notes to people in the notepad in Logic along with track information. That’s a silly thing. We’re all growing and changing. We’re all mistake machines.
Listening to your new EP is especially cathartic. Was it the same way in writing it?
When songs and their parts come together, it can feel incredible. I sometimes record parts again and again because it feels so good when they’re locked in. I don’t know if it’s catharsis for me as a creator, but there’s definitely intent toward offering the reward of release to the listener.
When you think back to the person you were in 2009, what comes to mind?
I was on the fence between young person and adult, with greater affinity to the former and responsibility to the latter. I remember it as a carefree time.
How would you describe your creative trajectory since that debut record?
Mixed. I had a Van der Saar band for a little while when I was living in Toronto. I’d finished ‘No One Remembers’ (second LP) and wanted to play shows. We rehearsed for five or six months before my family moved to London. Had we stayed together, the creative trajectory for the project might’ve picked up some steam. We were getting good: a tight little three-piece with two players streets ahead of me for talent. That’s what you want.
How has time served your songwriting?
For a while when I was younger I was like, “Whoa, you can have loads of parts – this is cool,” and things got super parts-heavy. I relied too much on twists and turns, and not enough on delivering on a few good musical ideas. The parts thing worked better in a few bands I was in because there were more editors to rein things in and get rid of what didn’t fit. When you’re doing things by yourself, that resource isn’t there, but you’re still excited about all these parts you have. I’m mostly back to verses and chrouses these days.
What’s been the toughest lesson you’ve had to learn during that same timeframe?
When I was younger, it was hard to get over the notion that everyone would want to hear what I’d done because I made it. Once I got comfortable with the idea that I’m not special, that there are people doing this way better than me, and that maybe only a few people anywhere might be into what I’m doing, life as a creator became easier.
If you could change just one thing, what would it be?
I was by myself once at a bar in Oxford, UK. The place was quiet, and I was getting on nicely with the bartender. She was going out for a smoke and invited me to come. I’d just quit and told her I couldn’t. I should’ve left quitting for another time.
