• From the Archives: Mew

    When Mew’s third album, Frengers, landed on my desk in 2003, I was instantly hooked on the Danish act’s unique art-rock sound. In the years since, Mew has become one of my favourite bands of all time. With the band’s future uncertain—a run of “farewell” concerts has been announced, but there is talk afoot that Mew will actually continue without frontman Jonas Bjerre—it seemed like a good time to revisit some of the times I have had the opportunity to interview various members of the band over the years.

    Perfect Frengers: Denmark’s Mew might just conquer North America with its alien but strangely uplifting sound (2007)

    This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.

    To much of the band’s newfound North American audience, Mew probably seems to have materialized out of nowhere. Certainly, the group’s sound is otherworldly, with its sweeping synths and angels-on-high harmonies grounded by a rock-solid, sometimes downright punishing rhythm section. The fact that most listeners in this part of the world heard Mew for the first time only when its most recent album, And the Glass Handed Kites, got its U.S. release last summer adds to the impression that the group beamed in from some parallel dimension with its breathtakingly original music fully formed.

    The truth is that Mew came together in its native Denmark almost 12 years ago. Over the course of four albums, the Hellerup-spawned band has risen from indie-underdog status to the pinnacle of its home country’s music scene, scooping four prizes at last year’s Danish Music Awards. It must feel strange, then, to go from being the most popular rock act at home to being a cult act on foreign soil. Reached at a tour stop in Boston, drummer Silas Graae insists that his veteran group doesn’t mind having to build its overseas audience from the ground up. “I think that’s a more healthy way to do it, somehow: gradually and slowly,” he says. “We’re very privileged and lucky. It always seems to be growing, and that’s good for us.”

    Speaking of luck, Mew’s Canadian fans have been slightly more blessed than its stateside ones: And the Glass Handed Kites was released here a full nine months before it came out in the U.S., and it was the second Mew disc we got to hear, the first being 2003’s Frengers. In fact, Frengers didn’t come out in the States until January of this year, after a nation of Pitchfork readers started drooling for it. This puts Mew in the unlikely position of having to tour behind an album that isn’t its most recent effort.

    “We like that record as well,” Graae says matter-of-factly. “We don’t dislike that record or can’t stand playing its songs, so it’s great to come and support it.”

    Frengers is indeed a worthy listen—certainly one of the top releases of ’03—but Glass Handed Kites is Mew’s masterpiece. Just about everything is perfect, from the anthemlike refrain and end-of-all-things guitar blitzkrieg of “Apocalypso” to the impossibly uplifting intertwined vocal harmonies that close “Zookeeper’s Boy”. Singer Jonas Bjerre possesses the voice of an androgynous alien, capable of the sort of heart-rending flights that leave sensitive types with tear-streaked faces. This is in marked contrast to the grainy croak of slacker-rock icon J. Mascis, who lends his voice to two tracks, “Why Are You Looking Grave?” and “An Envoy to the Open Fields”.


    The latter selection makes it clear that this is a band with a taste for the grandiose; the song bursts to life in a Technicolor explosion of sky-splitting dream pop before settling back into a simple beat. Well, it seems simple, until you try tapping your foot to it and realize that the time signature keeps changing right when you think you’ve finally got it figured out.

    It’s a testament to Graae’s skill and subtlety as a drummer that such touches, which are all over Mew’s songs, don’t smack of audacity or self-indulgence. “It shouldn’t take up too much attention to be making strange [time] signatures,” he says. “It’s much more about the whole thing than just one thing.”

    Not that Mew is a wholly populist undertaking. A Scandinavian prog-pop act with a flair for the melodramatic and a girlie-voiced pixie for a frontman is perhaps not everyone’s cup of Tuborg. Mind you, the fact that all of Bjerre’s lyrics are in English at least leaves the door open—a mere crack, perhaps—to the possibility of a massive international following. Hey, it worked for Aqua, sort of.

    “I think for Jonas, it comes more natural for him to sing in English, somehow,” Graae says. “Why, I don’t know. He just seems to be more comfortable in that language.” The global dominance of American television might have something to do with it, but perhaps not as much as the music that the members of Mew grew up with, such as My Bloody Valentine, the Pixies, Nirvana, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., and the Afghan Whigs—English speakers all.

    In any case, familiarity with the lyrics lets the front-row punters sing along when Mew is on the road. The band is currently touring North America as a headliner for the first time. (Vancouver fans still speak reverently of the group’s jaw-dropping but all-too-brief set a few months back, when it came town as Kasabian’s opening act.) After that, the conquering Danes will finally get a chance to work on something new.

    “When we are not travelling and not playing shows, and we are at home, we write,” Graae notes. “We’ll go back to Denmark and start where we came from, with the new material. That’s the plan. And maybe we’ll come back and do a tour later, if someone wants us over here.”

    I have a feeling someone might.

    Mew explores space on No More Stories (2009)

    This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.

    Let’s get the full title of the latest Mew album out of the way right off the bat. It’s called No More Stories Are Told Today I’m Sorry They Washed Away No More Stories the World Is Grey I’m Tired Let’s Wash Away. It takes a while to say (and type), but that seems apt, since the music that the album contains is worthy of spending some quality time with. The Danish band’s fifth full-length release, No More Stories is rich in sonic detail, with the group reaching beyond its signature brand of epic art-rock to explore moody synthesizer-based pop (on “Tricks of the Trade”) and songs driven by insistent marimba motifs (“Hawaii” and “Vaccine”).

    Reached in Washington, D.C., where Mew is preparing to open for the Pixies at DAR Constitution Hall, singer Jonas Bjerre says that he and his bandmates, guitarist Bo Madsen and drummer Silas Graae, took deliberate steps to open up their sound. For Bjerre, that meant largely relieving himself of six-string duties. “I always really just played rhythm guitar, or I did, like, inverted chords and stuff like that, but I never really had any virtuosity with my playing,” he admits. “And I thought it was better to leave room for Bo, because he’s a really unique guitarist, and he has completely his own style that he keeps developing. So there’s more room for that. And he doesn’t play as many power chords and stuff like that on this record. So I would say it’s more spacious. It has room for a lot of mallet instruments and percussion and things that we usually don’t use as much.”

    Another major change is the absence of founding bassist Johan Wohlert, who left the band after the release of And the Glass Handed Kites, the 2005 album that brought Mew to the attention of North American music fans. Bjerre says Wohlert’s departure accounts for the new disc’s dearth of burly rockers, such as live favourites “Snow Brigade” and “Apocalypso”.

    “A lot of the rock stuff that we used to have was based on Johan and Bo playing up against each other with bass and guitar, and the grooves came a lot from Johan and Silas playing together,” Bjerre notes. “And now, Silas and Bo are developing the rhythm sections, and it’s based around chord progressions, but not in the same way as it used to be. I think we really explored, because we were a little bit tired of doing things the same way. We definitely needed to expand our horizons in the department of writing songs, and methods of writing songs. We tried out a lot of different things, and the songs actually came together in lots of different ways on this record.”

    When most bands talk of expanding their songwriting horizons, that might mean trying out some new effects pedals or experimenting with alternate guitar tunings. In Bjerre’s case, it meant creating a song in a way that no one else ever has. The appropriately titled “New Terrain”, which kicks off No More Stories, is actually two tracks in one; play it in reverse and it’s a separate song called “Nervous”, with its own set of lyrics.


    “I wanted to make something that could be sort of a palindrome song,” Bjerre says. “We were kind of playing around with palindromes. And obviously it’s not a palindrome, because the lyrics are different, but I just wanted the lyrics to be somewhat audible in reverse as well as forward-playing. And so I was just playing around with these words and these melodies, and kept reversing it until I had something that worked on the piano, and melodically and lyrically worked. Then we took it into the practice space and added the beats, and Bo kind of developed the chord structure with a baritone guitar, so it kind of grew from that. But it was meant to be something that could be played backwards from the beginning.”

    Lyrically, “Nervous” (which is available on the vinyl edition of No More Stories) seems to make more sense than “New Terrain”. The former is apparently about paranoia (“It seems everywhere you go/They’re out to get you”), but the latter is more opaque: “Like most, you snip soft sheets/What’s this about.” Indeed, what’s it about? Bjerre’s not telling.

    “If you go to art academy or something like that, you’re taught to always be ready to explain yourself,” he says. “And to me, that’s not really that interesting, because I don’t work like that. I don’t have a ready answer to any question about any of my lyrics. I just like to go with things and see where they take me, because I’m not a very analytical person. I just like the experience of things, and feeling them and shaping them. I don’t necessarily like to talk about them at great length or write essays about them or anything like that, you know?”

    Good idea. Save the essay-writing for the album titles.

    Returning bassist made Mew more of a band (2015)

    This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.

    There’s something to be said for making an artistically ambitious album. There’s also something to be said for actually being able to play your own songs on-stage. Danish art-rock outfit Mew discovered that these two things can be tricky to balance when it came time to hit the road in support of its loftily titled 2009 LP, No More Stories Are Told Today I’m Sorry They Washed Away No More Stories the World Is Grey I’m Tired Let’s Wash Away. (The album is, thank God, usually referred to as simply No More Stories by band and fans alike.)

    Recording for the first time without the grounding influence of bassist Johan Wohlert, the group’s remaining members explored what singer Jonas Bjerre, reached at home in Copenhagen, calls “clouds of ideas that came together in a weird way”.

    Bjerre says the resulting album is among his favourites in the Mew catalogue, but he also notes that the long-running act had no intention of ever making No More Stories II. To help avoid that, the band called on Michael Beinhorn, producer of 2005’s And the Glass-Handed Kites. His solution? Get Wohlert back onboard.

    “We needed something to happen, and Michael was missing the feeling of the rhythm section with Silas [Graae, Mew’s drummer] and Johan,” Bjerre says. “The last record he’d done with us was the Kites record, which had Johan on it. So he said, ‘Why don’t you just give him a call and invite him in to do some writing sessions at first?’ I said, ‘Yeah, sure.’ We’d actually talked about that over the years, doing some writing together. Then when he came in, it was actually surprisingly fast. It felt like he’d never left. It felt like he’d only been gone for a couple of months instead of seven years. So that was really thrilling and gratifying to experience.”

    The latest Mew record, the Beinhorn-produced + –, doesn’t tone down the group’s taste for the grandiose—check out the almost 11-minute dream-pop epic “Rows” for proof—but it does bring its more visceral, urgent elements to the forefront. “My Complications”, with its churning rock attack, is as close to “back to basics” as Mew will likely ever get.

    “It sounds more like a band playing, to me, whereas No More Stories, a lot of it sounded like production things,” Bjerre admits. “Some of the songs on No More Stories, we haven’t even really played live, I think. Some of them only a few times, because they just didn’t really translate to the live setting that well. So that was one of the things Michael wanted as well on this one. He said, ‘You guys have to play the songs in the practice space, and they have to sound complete before we go in the studio. Before we start adding stuff to it, it should work just as songs you’re playing. That’s the greatest starting point you can have.’ So we worked really hard on that, and the songs translate really well to the live scene, I think.”

    Local fans will get to judge that for themselves this week, but those counting on seeing Bo Madsen are in for a surprise. Apparently needing a break from the road, the guitarist has taken an indefinite hiatus from the band he helped form more than 20 years ago. For this tour, his parts will be played by Mads Wegner. And in the future? Will Bjerre himself end up playing more six-string to fill the void?

    “We’ve been listening to some demos on the tour bus and enjoying talking about the future and what we’re gonna do, but it’s still a little unsure what’s going to happen, exactly, so we’ll have to wait and see,” the singer says. “But, yeah, I love playing guitar. But I’m more of a rhythm guitar player, I’m not like a lead guitar player. I don’t know. We’ll see what happens. I’m sure we’ll think of something!”

    Danish band Mew makes the most of life as a trio (2017)

    This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.

    The art-rock gods giveth, and the art-rock gods taketh away. In 2015, veteran Danish band Mew gave fans several reasons to rejoice. The first was +-, its first album in six years. The second was the return of the quartet’s original lineup, with bassist Johan Wohlert rejoining after a nine-year hiatus.

    Now comes the “taketh away” part: after completing work on +-, founding guitarist Bo Madsen announced that he was leaving. Once again, the mighty Copenhagen foursome became a trio. Mew’s latest LP, Visuals, is the first to feature none of Madsen’s signature six-string work, which has always been light on blazing solos but heavy on slippery rhythms and unexpected phrasing.

    “The initial writing and recording was very much like we’ve always done it, pretty much, regardless of whether I was out of the band or Bo was out of the band or whatever,” says Wohlert when the Straight reaches him on a day off in Boston. “It felt very similar, but obviously with any group of people, if you remove one element it’s going to sound different. I think that’s one of the main reasons that we were able to take the band in yet another direction, or at least try out new things.”

    Throughout a career spanning over two decades, Mew has forged a unique aesthetic based on Jonas Bjerre’s stratospheric vocals and the canny interplay between Madsen, Wohlert, and drummer Silas Utke Graae Jørgensen. The group has flirted with everything from dreamy indie rock to the sort of mind-bending prog that other musicians love to geek out over.

    Visuals isn’t a major departure for Mew, although Madsen’s absence is palpable on “85 Videos”, a shimmering modern-pop concoction that wouldn’t sound out of place on an M83 record. (A good M83 record, that is. Not necessarily Junk.)


    There are guitars on Visuals, of course, notably the grunge-caked riff that opens “Candy Pieces All Smeared Out” and the quirky jangle of “Twist Quest”. According to Wohlert, many of the six-string sounds come courtesy of Mads Wegner, who has been Mew’s touring guitarist since Madsen’s departure.

    “It was mostly Mads,” the bassist confirms. “We wanted him to do it because a fresh outside perspective is good, and technically he’s a way, way better guitar player than me and Jonas. Also, you invest a little more of yourself if you’re a part of the record-making process, and it reflects in your relationship with the material when you go out on the road afterwards.”

    His contributions notwithstanding, Wegner is not officially a member of Mew. Nor, for that matter, is keyboardist-guitarist Nick Watts, who has been touring with Mew since 2001 and has played on several of the group’s LPs.

    “With a band like us, you have to understand that we’ve been going at it for 20-something years,” Wohlert says. “The band was me, Jonas, Silas, and Bo. And whenever somebody leaves, that doesn’t mean that you can get somebody in to take their place. It just means that you get somebody in to play shows. That just feels natural, and that’s how we prefer it, to be honest. It’s just the three of us now, and that’s cool.”

  • From the Archives: Cosmo Sheldrake (2019)

    I have a very extensive catalogue of old articles that I think are worth revisiting. Here’s one of them. (This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.)

    Cosmo Sheldrake gets in tune with nature

    His music is as likely to include the sounds of endangered songbirds as it is woozy waltz rhythms or marching-band brass. His lyrics read like the free-association ramblings of a man well-versed in the work of Lewis Carroll and Edward Lear, to say nothing of Syd Barrett.

    If that makes Cosmo Sheldrake sound like an unlikely pop star, well… He isn’t exactly a pop star. The 28-year-old London, England–based musician did, however, manage to have a viral hit with his song “Come Along”. Apple licensed the track—which, A.A. Milne fans will be delighted to learn, kicks off with the line “Come along, catch a Heffalump”—for an iPhone XR commercial last year, and that ad has since racked up more than 18 million plays on YouTube.

    A further 5.3 million views have been garnered by a slick cover of the song by American a cappella superstars Pentatonix. Reached at a Los Angeles tour stop, Sheldrake admits that he had never heard of Pentatonix before the platinum-selling group recorded “Come Along”, but he says he likes what they did with it.

    “It’s a very good arrangement,” Sheldrake tells the Straight. “They’re very technically amazing singers. They’ve made some different choices than what I would, obviously, but I’m definitely impressed. Yeah, it sounds cool.”

    You could say Sheldrake comes by his musical talent honestly; his mother is the internationally renowned singer and voice teacher Jill Purce, who is perhaps best-known for her early-’70s work with German avant-garde composer Karlheinz Stockhausen. His father is notable in his own right. For decades, Rupert Sheldrake has been a thorn in the side of scientific orthodoxy, espousing ideas that include the notion that humans have telepathic connections with their canine companions.

    Cosmo Sheldrake credits his father’s unique world-view with shaping his own.

    “It has very much been a part of how I’ve grown up and think about the world,” he says. “I very much feel connected with his ideas and analysis and philosophies. It’s had a huge impact—I guess first and foremost, this idea of nature being very much alive and evolutionary. So I’ve definitely inherited this sense of a holistic understanding of nature, which is somewhat animistic in a way. That definitely had a big impact on the way I think, and it trickled through into the music, for sure.”

    To that end, Sheldrake has created songs that incorporate his own field recordings of birds and aquatic animals made in various locales, including a few that will be familiar to attendees of the Squamish Constellation Festival, where he performs this weekend.

    “I’ve spent time up on the islands between Vancouver Island and the mainland, in that amazing part with smatterings of islands all over the place,” he says. “I’ve spent basically every summer of my life up in those islands in Desolation Sound and that part of the world. It’s beautiful.”

    The sense of hushed awe in Sheldrake’s voice when he talks about the wonders of the Sunshine Coast suggests that he’d rather be in forest or field, conversing with nightingales and Heffalumps, than tallying how many millions of views or Spotify streams his deeply quirky songs are getting.

  • career update: April 2025

    If you follow me on LinkedIn or know me in real life, you may already be aware that I was recently laid off by my most recent employer after three years.

    The good news is that this means I’m available—for freelance jobs, a full-time position, or contract work. I’m not as cheap as Chat-GPT, but I do have original thoughts, so that’s a plus.

    What do I do? A slogan/motto I have adopted recently is “I work with words”, and that’s as succinct a summation of what I do as I could think of. A more expansive answer is that I am a writer and copy editor with a vast range of experience in journalism, public relations, thought leadership, and marketing.

    How vast? Here’s a list of some of the work I have done, in no particular order:

    • Arts features
    • Music criticism
    • Interviews
    • Press releases and pitches
    • Social media posts
    • White papers and reports
    • Book reviews
    • Ghostwritten op-eds
    • Speeches and presentations
    • Artist bios for record labels and independent musicians
    • SEO-focused blog articles
    • Landing page copy

    That’s a lot of different kinds of writing (and editing), but the one thing that connects them all is that I do them all to a very high standard. But don’t just take my word for it; take my words for it. You can find samples of my work in a few different categories:

    Thanks for your time. Got any leads? You know where to find me.

  • From the Archives: the Decemberists (2004)

    I have a very extensive catalogue of old articles that I think are worth revisiting. Here’s one of them. (This article originally appeared in The Georgia Straight.)

    Whimsy And Horror: The Decemberists Explore Both In Equal Measure In Singer Colin Meloy’s Literate Songs

    It’s a hell of a way to start a pop record. “Shanty for the Arethusa”, which kicks off Her Majesty the Decemberists, begins with the creaking and groaning of a mist-shrouded clipper in some forsaken Victorian outport, followed in short order by the sharp sound of a woman’s scream. “Tell your daughters do not walk the streets alone tonight,” Decemberists singer Colin Meloy warns in the first verse of the song, a weird lament about spectral sailors, ghost ships, and very real threats of bodily harm.

    Reached at home in Portland, Oregon, Meloy says he knew right away that “Shanty for the Arethusa” would be the first track on Her Majesty, winning out over breezier pop confections such as the sweetly sardonic “Los Angeles, I’m Yours” and the giddily melancholic “Song for Myla Goldberg”. Meloy’s friends and colleagues, needless to say, thought him a lunatic. “They went, ‘No. No, no, no. Don’t. That’s the song everybody’s going to hear first, and it’s really off-putting. It’s scary and disturbing and weird. Put a pop song first,’ ” the singer recalls.

    Meloy got his way. Placing the disc’s most morbid song before all the others, he says, was a way of weeding out those listeners who might not be ready for the Decemberists’ brand of whip-smart, bookish songcraft. “I think there is something in me that really wants to get it out at the very beginning. It’s like, ‘If you don’t like this, then you should stop listening now,’ ” he says.


    Meloy’s refusal to pander to his audience might alienate a few potential listeners, but it has won his band a healthy cult following. The Decemberists are a particular favourite of music critics, who have championed the group both for its winning sound—a curious blend of Kurt Weill cabaret and ’60s folk-rock, all spinning organ and swelling accordion—and Meloy’s hyperliterate story-songs of soldiers, mariners, Gypsies, and other transient souls. (The singer-lyricist holds a degree in creative writing from the University of Montana, and is currently working on a book about the Replacements’ classic Let It Be LP for Continuum International.)

    Her Majesty is the follow-up to Castaways and Cutouts, released in 2002 by the tiny company Hush but reissued more widely last year by the Decemberists’ current home, Kill Rock Stars. If the group seems a little out of place on the label that introduced the world to Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, and Sleater-Kinney, well, it’s hard to figure out just where the five-piece does fit in. Certainly not on commercial radio, which wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with the band’s curious balance of whimsy and horror. And Meloy notes that the Decemberists are an uneasy fit on most college-station play lists as well. “Frankly, I don’t know how well we sit between Death Cab for Cutie and the Shins,” he says. “Their stuff is so much less geeky; so much cooler. I’ve never thought of us as being a very cool band.”

    Well, those who appreciate Belle and Sebastian probably get it. And so, hopefully, will fans of the Walkmen, with whom the Decemberists play Richard’s on Richards on Wednesday (February 11). If the geeks, freaks, and bookworms who have already discovered Meloy and company have anything to say about it, the place should be packed to capacity.

    “We’ve been enjoying a lot of word of mouth,” Meloy avers. “It’s been really nice. I think that there’s a lot of people recommending our album and passing it on to people. It’s a very grassroots sort of way of getting the word out. That’s really worked for us, for whatever reason. I think that people who do like it really like it. The people who appreciate the aesthetic, and appreciate the sense of humour and the approach that we take to music, typically are the sort of people that really grab onto something and hold onto it. And also try to shove it down their friends’ throats.”

  • Am I posting about my band again? Why, yes. Yes, I am

    It’s been a relatively quiet start to the New Year for the Starling Effect, but we’re gearing up for a couple of shows that I want to tell you about. Because it’s exciting. For me. (Your mileage may vary.)

    On March 21, we return to our old stomping grounds, the Princeton Pub, for a gig with China Syndrome and Moonfoil. There’s no cover charge for this one.

    Then, on April 18, we hit the stage at Green Auto for the very first time to support Abel Collective, who will be doing so for the last time. (It’s their farewell show.) Rounding out the bill is the Cold Lake, which features former members of long-time local faves Perfume Tree and Veloce.

    Seriously, Perfume Tree is legendary. I was listening to their ground-breaking mix of dream-pop and trip-hop in high school, I kid you not!

    Tickets for the Green Auto show are available via Eventbrite.

    Both of these shows are happening in Vancouver, in case that’s not obvious.

    Also: I recently answered some questions for Support the Scene, and I really hope I didn’t come off sounding too obnoxious, but you be the judge.

  • A site update

    If it seems like I only ever use this blog to post updates about my band… guilty as charged. However, I just wanted to pop in and note that I have streamlined the rest of this site to make it more user-friendly. There are now only four main pages (apart from this one): About Me, Copywriting Portfolio, Thought Leadership & Blogs, and Arts & Music Journalism. These categories should speak for themselves. Check them out and let me know what you think!

    Next up, another blog post about what my band is up to.

    No, I’m not kidding.

  • New music from the starling effect

    This week my band celebrates the release of a new two-song single, featuring the tracks “A Strange Habit of Disappearing” and “Blueskiesgrey”. We would appreciate it if you would give the new tunes a listen. And if you happen to live in a city with a college radio station, please request the Starling Effect.

    We will remember you when we become big rock stars.

  • the starling effect rides again

    If you live in Vancouver (or are planning to be here on April 19), please come and see my band play at the Princeton Pub, along with our pals in Hotel Empress and Pontiac.

    We have a couple of new songs recorded that—we dearly hope—will be released in time for the show. Come hear them live and say hi!

  • The Starling Effect in the Studio

    This past weekend my band holed up at Little Red Sounds in New Westminster to lay down some tracks with studio wizard Felix Fung. Things are sounding good, and you’ll be able to hear the results this spring.

  • the Starling effect in action

    An update on all things career and creative is long overdue, and I promise one is coming. In the meantime, please enjoy these photos of the Starling Effect playing at the Pearl on Granville a few weeks back. All photos by Silkbone Studios.