Nobody's gonna rain on this Wolf Parade

Photo: Wolf Parade are poised on the brink of Arcade Fire-level hype, but insist they have evolved into a very different kind of band.

MONTREAL- Riders on the storm. Wolf Parade's Dan Boeckner is talking on a cellphone as drummer Arlen Thompson drives the band's tour van through pouring rain, midway into a 20-hour drive from Vancouver to Chicago. It's an image befitting Wolf Parade's recently acquired status as indie rock's next big thing. The makings of the tempest: Heirs to hometown brethren the Arcade Fire's regal torch; unwitting beneficiaries of the media blitz surrounding all things Montreal music; anointed by Modest Mouse frontman Isaac Brock, who produced the band's just-released debut Apologies to the Queen Mary; and powered by the clout of heavyweight indie label Sub Pop, Wolf Parade would rather ride out the storm than stop and take a bow. "Uhhh, yeah. It's hard to even think about," Boeckner said, of the gales of hype swirling around the group. "I don't think it's the kind of thing anybody in this band pays attention to unless they're absolutely forced. It's been surreal -- really surreal -- and disconnected from the actual act of playing music, and doing what we wanted to do in the first place." Boeckner is disenchanted with many aspects of Wolf Parade's success, up to and including the articles being written about them as they drive city to city to play their songs. "Every interview is completely weird," he said. "(Each story) ends up being five paragraphs. The first is about how nobody knew anything about us until Isaac Brock came along, the second is about Sub Pop, the third is about the Arcade Fire and the Montreal music scene, and at the end they throw in a quote or two." Apologies to the Queen Mary is an exhilarating album. It carouses with a rambling swagger, tugging hipster heartstrings as singer-guitarist Boeckner trades untamed wails with singer-keyboardist and fellow songwriter Spencer Krug. Toss in electronic manipulator Hadji Bakara and you've got a band that combines two of rock' n' roll's greatest, most enduring traits -- romance and recklessness. While relishing the tension between the two, Boeckner is wary of straying too far towards palatability. His band's future stares him in the face as Wolf Parade continues to mix headlining gigs with opening slots for the Arcade Fire. "We just played a couple of (our own) shows in Victoria and Vancouver," he said. "They were some of the better shows this band has ever played. They were smaller venues -- we had 400 or 500 kids packed in, all sweaty. It was fun. It's supposed to be fun, right? "The thing about big-venue shows is there's this invisible wall, like people are watching TV. It's not supposed to be like that. You're not supposed to analyse a band. You should be close enough, and it should be loud enough that you can't even think about whether you like it or not. You just have to be there." Of the Arcade Fire, with whom they have shared members (Boeckner and Thompson), rehearsal spaces and stages, Boeckner sees a stylistic divide emerging. "This tour has made it totally apparent," he said. "We're different bands. We're being marketed as part of the same movement. We're friends, but we're not approaching things the same way, or going for the same aesthetic. "We're a punk band. We're all ex-hardcore kids. The people in this band -- our idea of a perfect show is in a sweaty basement, packed full of friends, with shitty sound. It's music as the expression of something emotional and jubilant, sad, angry, but immediate, no theatrics. "Watching the Arcade Fire, they're coming from the same emotional place, but they really have the theatre of it down -- in a good way. They're an amazing live band. But we don't operate on the same level. We're skids. Not to say we're dumb, but we're not calculating. We're not delivering the same show every night. We don't have a routine." Boeckner debunked another much ballyhooed myth -- that of the crowning influence of producer Brock, whom he met a half decade back while playing in Vancouver band Atlas Strategic (all of Wolf Parade's members originally hail from the West Coast). "It was frustrating, man," Boeckner said, of entering the studio with Brock. "We drove to Portland, Oregon, last year. It was kind of unfamiliar being in a professional setting. We've always recorded everything at home, off the cuff. I really think that's the best, most immediate way to record things. "We stayed there, recording with this ostensible friend of ours -- it was a battle of the wills. It ended up all right. I haven't listened to the album in a while. It's a good document of where we were then. The band's a lot different now." With a little prodding, he revealed the central point of contention: "It was about the way you approach recording an album, what kind of record we wanted to make, like the difference between making a standard indie pop record, or something that is more singular. And just the methods, like using a (drummer's) click track or not." Returning home, the band nursed its wounds, and tried to make the best of a distressing situation. "We're not a polished band, by any means," Boeckner said. "We don't want to pull the wool over people's eyes. The original mix was so far from what we envisioned. We had to remix it. We stripped everything away, back to (the basic) components." They found a helping hand in Jace Lasek, of Montreal band Besnard Lakes, who mixed the album in his Breakglass studio. "Jace is the reason why I don't hate this record," said Boeckner, succinctly. "He's one of the huge factors why I can actually listen to it." By now, you're getting a picture of where Boeckner and his boys are coming from. They don't like things too clean, shiny or even organized. In the Parade of wolves, chaos holds currency. The album title comes from a party aboard the Queen Mary ship last year where, after bashing in a door, carving a Ouija board design into a table and other inebriated shenanigans, the band was unceremoniously shown the shore. On a recent night, they were ejected from a park in Seattle -- this time, for singing. (Howling at the moon?) "We've been doing it on tour," Boeckner said, "busting out acoustic guitars and having singalongs... I think the straw that broke the camel's back was (Pink Floyd's) Wish You Were Here." As near or far as Apologies to the Queen Mary is to the band's original intent, the songs pulsate with pop smarts -- urgent hooks that perk up your ears, and leave you singing along, with enough grit to alleviate the guilt. For Boeckner, it's about capturing a creative moment: "It's always best, right when a band learns to play a song without screwing up. That's when you should be recording it. Not a year after it's written, and it's been hammered out and changed on tour." The group is already planning to begin recording its next album in January, this time on its own turf, and terms. "I think it will be different," Boeckner said. "We're not a different band, but the music might be more esoteric. At the same time, with some catchy songs -- they might be more catchy, recorded in a different way. "We bought a mixing board. We're going to record it ourselves, go in (to the studio) with a small amount of material -- as opposed to 13 or 14 songs that have all been road tested -- five or six songs and a bunch of friends. And we'll see what happens. I think it's going to be good. I want the immediacy to be there."