Whisky in the Water: Death Cab for Cutie's Ben Gibbard Interviewed

Ben Gibbard, singer, songwriter and founder of professional heartstring-tuggers Death Cab For Cutie, is recovering from a badly broken wrist. Tripping on a footbridge whilst running on Seattle’s Orcas Island has left the chairman of emotional indie rock with screws and plates reconnecting his bones, but he’s still in buoyant spirits. Joking, he describes himself as a “method actor:” “It’s not enough to have all these other fissures in my life, and name an album Kintsugi – I’ve gotta take it to the next level and break my own wrist?”

The quip holds because Kinstugi – the title and concept behind the band’s eighth record – is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery; using gold lacquer to piece together the shards, the delicate practice treats the putting-back-together process with philosophical respect for life’s bumps and bruises. Obviously ripe symbolic ground for a band as openly heart-on-sleeve as Death Cab For Cutie, it’s no surprise that the group has had a rough ride in recent times.

Since their last album, Codes and Keys (2011), pivotal member and producer Chris Walla announced his departure after 17 years with the band. And if that’s not enough of an upheaval, Ben has gone through a public divorce from New Girl star Zooey Deschanel. Yet, with the title as it is, the record seems to be inviting a whole host of intrusive questions and conjectures. Was there not a temptation to try and avoid headlines of Kintsugi: Death Cab Are Back And Stronger Than Ever? Ben concedes, “Yeah, a lot of people have been making the assumption that the title is meant to refer to the fractures in the band. But what resonated with me about that word, when Nick [Harmer, bass] brought it to us, is that metaphorically it’s what I’ve always been trying to do as a songwriter. You try to recreate something, and you’re trying to highlight the point of breakages. A lot of these songs are about how to make something beautiful out of something really, really horrible.”

"I could write songs about pole vaulting and people would figure out a way to tie it back to the divorce" – Ben Gibbard

As a songwriter, Ben has always been intensely confessional. But surely once your private life and band dynamic is being eagerly dissected across the internet’s gossip forums, it’s bound to impact upon the writing of a record? Completely preempting this question, Ben volunteers, “You know, when I was first writing songs for what would be Kintsugi, I was struggling with how… um… not even how open I was going to be, but just the perceptions of how open I was, when the record came out. If that makes sense?” After a pause, he continues,“Because… after going through a divorce with A Well Known Person, I could write songs about pole vaulting and people would figure out a way to tie it back to the divorce. But, you know, you don’t hold back. Don’t change how you are, don’t change how you write for fear of what people are going to think.”

Spiritedly debating whether his attitude is “fearless” or “foolish,” he argues that “you don’t have to worry about protecting yourself.” As he puts it, “those pieces, those editorials, they are for the fans to discuss and argue… but I’m not going to enter that dialogue. That’s not to say that dialogue doesn’t have merit, but I’ve never read a piece of criticism that’s made me second-guess a creative decision. For better, or worse.” 

Preferring instead to rely on fan feedback at shows, he references the album’s lead single Black Sun, saying “people aren’t getting into it because they think – correctly or incorrectly – it’s about a famous person. A song is only as successful as how deeply a person can integrate it into their own lives.” He's probably just put a finger on what’s made Death Cab For Cutie a special band to so many people for so long – the ability to write lyrics that feel both intimate and broadly applicable, in a far more direct, impactful manner than the 'it’s a love story' vagueness of other chart-toppers.  

Yet, as the first track released from a long-awaited album, Black Sun quickly circulated the internet under the interpretation of a 'break-up' song, although the video – and lyrics – certainly aren’t explicit in that department. In actuality, it puts the concept of Kintsugi into practice in a very Scottish context (“there is whisky in the water”) and sounds more an unpicking of creative practices… but does that interpretation hold up, either? Ben’s quick to weigh in. “That’s my point. Frankly I’m much more interested in your take on [the song] than I am my own. There are times when I’m asked a very direct question: ‘what’s this song about?’ And it’s like, well look, that’s not only a lazy question... but it doesn’t matter what it’s about to me. It matters what it’s about to you.”

So with Ben happy to endorse whatever your personal interpretation of its lyrical content may be, Kintsugi is grand and sweeping in classical Death Cab form. Opener and recent single No Room In Frame trips along, jauntily deceptive, whilst Ben’s distinctive vocals detail a story of a partnership derailing – no answers on postcards, please. Almost elegiac in its treatment of memory and nostalgia, haunted by ghosts and caught up in second-guesses, it’s a record written for long roads and starry nights. Warming and readily empathetic, it’s not as naturally anthemic as the big hitters from Transatlanticism, for example, but mid-record gem Hold No Guns is a bare-bones ballad that’s atmospheric storytelling at its finest. In essence, and despite the turmoil, it sounds just like the Death Cab For Cutie we know.

But if Kintsugi feels more of a marker-stone than a drastic change in direction, it's still an indicator of the shape of things to come. Although it’s the first Death Cab album to feature an ‘outsider’ in the producer’s seat, Chris “fired himself” from the role and the band invited Rich Costey (Sigur Rós, Frank Turner) to take the reins, Chris still worked on the album in its entirety. But since his official departure, two new members have joined Ben, Nick and Jason McGerr (drums) for the band’s long tour this year – Dave Depper and Zac Rae – with Ben intimating that they could be on board for the long haul. He enthuses that they’ve brought “new energy… not only to the live show, but all the minutiae of being in a band” and admits that, over the years, “Chris, as brilliant and important as he’s been to the band, he was the guy who didn’t like to go on tour. He was the guy who did his own thing. The three of us would go to dinner and Chris’d go off on his own trip. It wasn’t a source of animosity by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s something I think we really needed... To feel like a gang again.” 

Ultimately Walla’s departure created a crossroads for the band – one that they’ve survived with Kintsugi as proof, and one that will see a newly refreshed group take steps towards an uncertain but reinvigorated future. Ben describes the shake-up as more than necessary: “As a career band it’s very difficult not to paint yourselves into a corner. You have to be very vigilant about quality control and not allow… like… ‘Oh, Death Cab For Cutie are getting together to make a record. That’s good enough! I’m sure it’ll be great because they’ve made these other records we like. I’m sure it’ll be fine!’ No. It’s not as simple as that. Being a band as long as we have, it just becomes more and more difficult because you have this body of work that precedes you into a room.”

It’s undeniably true, too. With a back catalogue as beloved as theirs, one that’s soundtracked innumerable slammed-doors of teenage angst, mid-twenties existential crises and innumerable emotional film montages – how on earth do you manage the pressure? But so far, fractures and all, Death Cab For Cutie have survived the ride and are stronger for it (sorry; it’s true, though). After this talk of the future, and before the clock fully runs out on the conversation, Ben muses about the nature of influences and perspectives. He’s already namechecked REM and Teenage Fanclub, but does he think that Death Cab now have a legacy of their own? “I don’t know… I never pick up on those things,” he laughs. “I never heard a young band like ‘Ooooh my god, those guys totally listened to us.’ I still feel like we’re a Built To Spill cover band.”