It's safe to say that four of the five members of the self-described post-punk Baltimore rock band, Two if by Sea, are more than comfortable in the upper lounge of the Ottobar. Their crinkled uniforms of dark, button-down shirts, slim ties, and ironic anti-Bush armbands blend into the leather couches and vinyl chairs as if they've been there for years, put there deliberately as part of the d??cor. You almost wouldn't notice that I, the Hopkins freshman and stranger to Baltimore, am as foreign to this scene as a snowball in hell.
There's no mystery as to why they seem so comfortable: this place is home. Most of the members of the band grew up in the city, and even bassist John Jorde, who was born in Dallas and moved to Baltimore at the age of six, agrees that Baltimore is closer to him than anywhere else. Further, Two if by Sea are no strangers to the venue. The name of their band is all over the old promo posters that coat the walls. The Ottobar has been good them -- its familiarity to the band has allowed them to assemble a small but loyal following. This becomes apparent later when bar's population swells just before the band's 1 a.m. set. People beam proudly as they sing along to favorites like "Contract" and the politically charged "100 days."
It's impressive that more than one person in the crowd knows the words to songs off of their new album, Translations. Even more impressive is how comfortable the band is with one another after only two years playing together. The band was created out of ads placed in local papers, and they found their lead singer Chris Cowan in their first and only audition for the position. But in spite of all this, they are all very close and affectionately tease each other as we sit and talk. "We told Chuck [Cole] that we were playing at a different venue. He's probably still standing there with his bass right now," jokes bassist John Jorde.
What keeps them together and what distances them from their peers in the indie-rock scene today are one and the same: their age. These guys aren't the young kids with long, unkempt hair and stumbling, drunken presence, who polluted the New York scene a few years ago. They are mature thirty-somethings who could be your distant uncle or second cousin. Instead of rediscovering bands like the Cure and Joy Division, they grew up with them.
Their age also makes for an easygoing maturity within the band. Roles such as vocalist, guitarist, drummer, and songwriter are not permanent. Everyone writes, everyone sings, everyone contributes. No one is in it for the paycheck; all five men are emotionally bound to everything they create. It is this aspect of the band's formula that keeps their music from developing one distinguishing sound, allowing the group to delve into different styles of music. Their new E.P. Post Surgery for example, is a collection of their old songs that have been "torn up and operated on to create a more dance sound," says lead singer Cowan.
The mantra that everyone has an equal part in the band is the only solid tradition that they refuse to budge from. "We're very democratic," says David Hardy, "There's always five of us in the van raising our hands to vote whether to stop at a Taco Bell or a diner." Though they support this aspect of democracy, they are otherwise sworn Communists, sharing everything from instruments to political views.
No one needed to vote though when it came to talking about what Two if by Sea are most excited about in the upcoming future. "Tours are fun," drummer Chuck Cole said, "it's a chance to spread your music to new ears.'' The band's current plans will take them on a six week trek across the country hitting hotspots everywhere except the extreme West Coast.
The energy at the table rises dramatically as we discuss the upcoming tour. Even the more reserved Jorde and keyboardist Yuri Zeitz are perking up and tossing in their own comments about the touring life. When I ask them if they get scared going onstage to perform for a non-hometown crowd, Cowan looks almost offended. "Not at all," he says, his glossy singers' voice hitting a higher decibel. "Those are the most fun.
"We played a children's bookstore in the Midwest once to a bunch of fourteen and fifteen year olds and I still consider it one of my favorite shows. Kids were dancing and everything. They are so much more receptive to new music out there because they don't get it as much. The East Coast is almost jaded, like there's a music overload. I love playing shows to a new crowd because they aren't expecting anything. You get the chance to set the bar."
The five of them dutifully watch the four bands before them play their sets and are completely camouflaged, faceless in the crowd. In a world of insecurities and in a scene such as that of the indie rock persuasion where image and "look" are as important as the music, Two if by Sea is not trying to be something that they are not. Their music cannot be labeled or compared to others in their genre because they have taken so much care to make it their own.
On stage the band is dynamic. The only thing keeping Two if by Sea from being a legitimate post-punk band is that they smile so damn much. They are tight as a unit and produce music that is both upbeat and brooding at the same time. The sound is fast-paced and very easy to move to in a way that has been dead since the late eighties.
The lyrics of the songs are tinted, darker and more moody than what the melodies might suggest. But they don't falter at all. They own themselves, and they love it, and they aren't afraid of it, and that is the most refreshing, most inspiring piece of Baltimore I have seen so far.
