Puck revisits their past on the introspective Best Friend

Photo Credit: Joule Seventeen

For years, Puck has been working toward this album. At the age of 18, the artist left the Pacific Northwest to study jazz at NYU. Within five years, they became the touring keyboardist for SZA. In 2019, they released a pair singles: a stripped down indie pop cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” and the electronic dance funk collaboration with the New York producer Space People “Good Friends.” In addition to supporting SZA, they have also toured with dhruv and Maggie Rogers. As a touring keyboardist, they have performed at Coachella, SNL and the Grammys. Those experiences gave way to Puck writing and releasing their first full-length album, Best Friend.

Best Friend is a sonic exploration of indie rock, pop, and jazz. The album, co-produced by Lily Wen, traces the path of a relationship from a rocky start to a violent end. On “Trapped,” the opening track, Puck uses alt pop to introduce us to the album’s theme. The song points to the hope that one might have in the beginning of a relationship, the same hope that may become a struggle to hold onto later. The song “When The Quiet I Had Feared Finally Came” is a look back at a relationship from a distance. As Puck fingerpicks arpeggiated guitar chords, they ask their former partner to acknowledge the pain they caused. At the end of “Hope” we listen in on a conversation that hints at the freedom felt by those who refuse to participate in patriarchy. At times, the music lets our mind wander toward introspection. The track “You,” for example, is a collage of different musical genres. The mostly instrumental track, broken into sections, mixes strings, piano, electronic percussion, and synths. At the last minute, however, we are snapped back to reality by the spoken line hidden under distortion, “may she be the last one you harm.” A direct message to their abuser. The album concludes with “Best Friend,” an earnest letter to an abusive ex in the form of an indie rock / post-grunge song. The track expresses the emotional hurt caused by violence. It also reveals the clarity and growth that comes from moving on. The album is a document of survival which also seeks to caution others who may find themselves in a similar situation.

On Best Friend, Puck breaks down the psychological impact of being in a violent relationship and the consequences of attempting to heal their abuser. Puck also looks beyond their own experiences with domestic violence. The album is an analysis of the social systems that contribute to abuse. It doesn’t seek to solve the problems with patriarchy directly, a tall order for one person, but rather it explores the system’s validation of unequal power within a relationship dynamic. 

soundvsystem connected with Puck over email to discuss writing and recording Best Friend, the influence of grunge, the fall of patriarchy and the economics of touring.

Congrats on the new album! This is the first time you are stepping out to front your own project. How are you feeling now that the album is out?

Thank you very much! I'm feeling really proud of myself. It's strange to complete a goal this massive though—working towards this moment has been guiding the course of my life for so long that I'm feeling a bit out-to-sea now that the music is out in the world.

You’ve been living with these songs for some time now. There is a video piece that captures you performing some of these tracks at Elsewhere in March of 2020, just before covid shutdown New York City. At what point did you make the decision to put the songs out as an album? 

I've been writing this album for a long time, but began working on it more seriously in 2018. I think the tipping point happened then; I realized it was time. I started playing shows that year with what I had written so far, and kept writing until I had all ten tracks ready to go and record with a band during quarantine in 2020.

You’ve spoken in other interviews about the abusive relationship you were in and the healing process that came with writing these songs. Did songwriting help give you clarity on that relationship?

Very much so. Writing these songs felt like building a ladder. In my abusive relationship, I was experiencing a lot of harm from my partner, but I was also experiencing harm from myself; even after physically leaving and cutting off all contact with him, I was still participating in the ghosts of that relationship inside my own mind.  Writing these songs really helped me see with clarity. Especially with the song "Best Friend." That song is about one of the trickiest lessons I had to learn: I understood that my abuser's mental health was deteriorating, and it was really hard to stop hoping that he would heal, that the relationship would return, that the wrongs would be righted, that my heart would unbreak. That's what we're taught right? In sickness and in health. I was really afraid to accept that what I experienced wasn't love. For a while, I used his mental illness as a buffer to uphold the false reality that he had been loving; I tried to convince myself that it was his illness, not him, that had abused me. That was really unfair to both of us. When I wrote "Best Friend" that was the first time that I could fully see and accept the complexity of mental illness, abuse, and accountability, and that I had not experienced love. It was writing the lyric "I'm letting go what wasn't true, but if we keep on loving what's left, that's the same abuse" that really helped me. Finishing that song was an act of psychologically exiting that relationship.

You’ve mentioned manipulating the drums on “Trapped” to emphasize the illusory perfection of a relationship in its early stages. Did you have a strong sense of what you wanted the listener to walk away with when making the album? 

No actually. There were certain things musically that I wanted to say, pulling from grunge or Joni or 70s keyboard albums, and there were certain things I wanted to explore mathematically, but I wasn't sure what it was going to sound like. I walked my way into that. The fact that the record started out with hyper-manipulated audio, and ended with "Best Friend" which we barely touched (I think we kept the first mix) was a very cool accident. It reflected my uncoiling, my return to health.

The song “You” serves as a great midpoint on the album. It’s a mostly instrumental track that moves from strings to piano to technopop to noise. Can you talk about how that song came together and what it might represent within the album?

It's a portrait about mental health and domestic violence. "You" is meant to be the midpoint, or the transitional moment, a wormhole. I think of "Woman," "You," and "Richer" as a three-song suite at the center of the album, almost like a Sonata. "You" was one of the first things I ever produced drums for, the file sat in my computer since 2014. My ex was really into Footwork at the time and was playing DJ Rashad & RP Boo around the apartment a lot. There was this stock drum kit in Reason that had similar drum sounds, so when learning to program I gravitated toward that. It's certainly a touchstone from that time. I composed the chords and knew how I wanted the form to go, but I couldn't solve the middle section. It wasn't until Lily was experimenting with FX in the studio after tracking the string quartet one night that the song came fully together and the narrative became clear.

You’ve mentioned that for a long time you kept your music from other people. In “Richer” you sing, “without fear I’ll reveal what I’ve kept hidden.” This line sounds to me like it comes from a place of strength. What was the process of working with Lily Win as a co-producer? Did you feel a sort of freedom when you were recording these songs in the studio?

Haha, I didn't know if people would notice that! Yeah, that was my moment of saying fuck it and surrendering to following my heart. It's sort of self-referential to the album.

Lily Wen is amazing. She's one of my greatest friends, and one of the best audio engineers and producers I know. Watching her in a studio is so beautiful, it's definitely her instrument. I would say weird things like "can we make this snare sound like moss, and make this synth sound like a glacier" and I'd watch her do it. She's insane.

You’ve described “Woman” as “a search for the source beginnings of patriarchy.” How do you imagine it ending?

Oh man, this is a big question. Well, dissent for sure. But that becomes very difficult when the same pay structure that finances patriarchy, that funds billionaires, is also what you rely on to eat and have shelter. That system depends on the unpaid labor of child-rearing, so women are being exploited to create a workforce whose labor will be exploited to maintain the current economic structures. I don't think patriarchy is going to end without addressing colonialism; to me, white supremacy is patriarchy's most recent incarnation of securing economic power and identity. For as long as we keep preaching to ourselves that democracy can begin with genocide, we'll be maintaining patriarchy.

I find a lot of comfort in thinking about what I was taught was taboo as a kid: menstruation, orgasm, magic, any spirituality that isn't a male deity we call source. That one really bothers me: if God is All, then why do we pray to Him, and use masculine pronouns, which is one half of duality? It's been really helpful to imagine why those things are taboo now, what they're a reaction to. I have to remind myself that oppression always has a start date, and a reason for beginning.

I think it's possible for patriarchy to already be dead inside my mind. Sometimes I think about how feminism only exists inside a patriarchal society. When I'm alone and just existing, I have no need for it because I'm already whole and experiencing my existence, and I don't rely on my proximity to a man to create identity. I think patriarchy is already in the process of ending - Black liberation movements have been tearing it down for years, #MeToo and all of its ripples over the last few years, the protests in Iran right now. Even the abortion bans in the U.S. show me that something is working, that the old guard is grasping for power - how can rich men exploit workers if they don't have control over women's bodies to create and raise the workforce for free?

I think patriarchy's ending requires us to pull up systems by the root; instead of breaking glass ceilings, I'd rather exit the building to be under the sky, you know? I have to remember that being under the sky is my birth rite, to not be convinced that I have to prove myself, or buy something to be able to touch it. I already breathe the air.

What was it like growing up in Washington and being immersed in the scene where grunge originated?

Oh man, it's the best. I was a toddler when grunge was hitting really hard, so my earliest memories of an alternative or underground culture is grunge. Grunge was on national media, local news, and outside on the street. As I became a preteen, everyone I knew growing up had a phase where you listened to Nevermind. As the grunge era gave way more broadly to a 2nd coming of indie rock in the 00s, right at the time that mp3 players and pirating were becoming commonplace, and you could download recording software from the internet, it made it seem like becoming a musician and making your own album was a possibility. Growing up near Seattle, radio like KEXP, labels like Sub Pop or Suicide Squeeze or Barsuk, and fests like Bumbershoot made it feel as though having a music career was in the realm of possibility, not something far far away in Hollywood. I think grunge and indie rock really helped me find a sense of identity as a kid who didn't fit in. The androgyny and utility in grunge fashion meant that my queerness had a place to exist, unpressured. Workwear and camping gear and clothes from Value Village meant that you didn't have to be rich to have a cool outfit, just clever. As much as I detest Macklemore, I can't help but acknowledge that his song "Thrift Shop" owes it to the lineage of DIY fashion culture in Seattle that comes directly from Bam Bam, from Temple of the Dog, from Cobain. Reaching for grunge was so helpful when I would get extremely homesick in NYC. It's always been with me, and probably always will be. I know grunge has come back around again as something cool, but I never took the flannel off. I'm glad it's in the zeitgeist again, there are some really good bands making music right now. Enumclaw is one of them. I'm a big fan of Karōshi too. Both of those bands are from out here.

What were you listening to when you were in the process of making the album?

It's interesting, I took a break from listening to a lot of music for 2 or 3 years when I was really in the thick of writing and recording. I'm just now getting back to albums I missed during that time. During the process of making Best Friend, I had only a few references on repeat. Mainly Joni Mitchell, but also Thudercat's first record "Golden Age of Apocalypse."

There’s been a focus on the impact of touring on artists and their mental health, especially after covid. Do you have any plans on touring? Is there anything you’re concerned about in that regard?

I would love to tour, but to be honest, I'm struggling to put on my own shows right now. Right now, I'm averaging about $200 a show from door deals after splitting profits with other bands. It costs me $300 to pay my band for a show ($400 is an average, or low average rate for a musician on a larger tour, which is what they make normally, so you can see $300 for the whole band is very generous of them). Add in the cost of cabs that night to transport equipment, the overhead for even local shows at your DIY spot starts to get really expensive. I wish I had the overhead to easily play shows with the full band, like it is on the album.

For so long, I've really struggled with working a day job to afford the cost of living, and having enough energy and time in the day push my own music career forward. Like many millennials, I've worked multiple jobs simultaneously since 2013—I'm exhausted, but deeply proud of putting out this album.

To be honest, a lot of artists that are making a big splash rather young come from money. It creates a really skewed understanding of how to "make it" in the music business, and that certainly affects mental health. You could be really talented, and have a song blow up, and get offered a festival spot, but how are you going to play for flights and hotels for you and a team? Clothes and make up for the show? Visuals? The entry pay for a recent medium-large festival I applied to is $100 and wristbands—that definitely doesn't cover lodging and travel. It also costs a lot of money to make something go viral—studio time, paying collaborators, artwork, video production, paying for a publicist, yes sometimes you get lucky, but there's often a lot of upfront investment that doesn't get talked about. The idea of going viral just by luck is a myth. There's a real pay and resource gap in the music industry between indie artists, and larger acts. Being clever and DIY is awesome, and definitely the way I'm making it work, but at a certain point you need some overhead to fund putting on shows and tours. Or recording and mixing albums. Or getting vinyl and merch printed. Or having enough energy to write after you've been doing a day job for rent. It can be really discouraging, and mess with my head like "am I not good at music?" It can really affect your mental health.

Touring and the music industry are really a handy place to examine economics and class, and the way those things impact mental health, resources, and the ability to invest in yourself. But I think this is a conversation about the whole of capitalism moreso than just the music industry.

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Best Friend is out now. To purchase the digital album, head to Bandcamp. The album can also be streamed on Spotify and other platforms. Follow Puck on Instagram and Twitter. Puck is set to perform live:

December 17 - Brooklyn, New York - C’mon Everybody

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