Rockin’ the here and now

“We’re in a Whole Foods in Memphis,” Pontiak guitarist/vocalist Van Carney tells me over the phone. “Someone just asked me to watch their cart. Sounds like the beginning of a weird movie.”

Maybe not a movie, but the scenario sounds familiar. If I recall correctly, the last time I spoke with Carney, he and his brothers/bandmates—bassist Jennings Carney and drummer Lain Carney—were gathering supplies between gigs somewhere in the South.

The heavy rock behemoth that is Pontiak spends plenty of time on the road—steamrolling cities worldwide, trying the local cuisine and, of course, sampling the local beer. And the band’s latest full-length, INNOCENCE, was made for the sole purpose of playing live. It’s loose. A little greasy. The first time I put it on it reminded me of the primal ferocity of The Stooges’ Fun House.

Carney clarified: “We’re huge fans of The Stooges but, man, James Brown. … I’ve always been a huge James Brown fan—you listen to him and he’s just insane.”

The brothers Carney, who with their rugged beardedness sort of look like they should be making beer instead of music, took a less finicky approach than normal with INNOCENCE. You could hear that evolution (de-evolution?) in 2012’s Echo Ono, which played things a little straighter than some of their more angular and shifty early work. That’s not a gripe. Their songs still retain their precision and intensity (the first three songs on INNOCENCE are all the proof you need), but they feature a few new textures.

One thing that has remained constant is the Carneys’ routine of holing themselves up in the mountains west of Washington, D.C., to record. This time they spent five months building their own studio in the loft of an old barn before starting the process. The entire album was recorded to tape, which cut down on the band going back and prettying things up.

“It lays it bare,” Carney explained. “We’re less likely to go back and fix things. The flubs become part of the serendipity of it.”

He says there was never any urge to go digital (“With computers, it partially becomes a visual process, which is really weird”), or bring in electronic instruments to spice up the sound. What you hear is essentially what you get. He says part of the fun is stretching the guitar-bass-drums formation in new directions. The assumption by some that rock music is already splayed on the embalming table is ridiculous to Carney.

“It’s like the novel—people say the novel is dead. That’s bullshit. It’s just changing.”

It’s no surprise that for the past few records Pontiak has called Thrill Jockey home. It’s a label that has consistently put out otherworldly records that are pushing music in exciting directions. But for as spaced-out as Pontiak’s music can get, these three brothers raised around the Blue Ridge Mountains in northern Virginia are surprisingly down-to-earth (they’re foodies at heart, and you could spend hours just talking about their travels).

INNOCENCE (capitalized simply for aesthetic reasons) seems to capture the brothers’ personalities. They’re still mad scientists who like to hole up in their studio, but this time around it feels like everyone’s invited.

“We wanted a record we could play live,” Carney said. “We wanted to be able to connect with people. It’s an artistic experience that’s lived in. When you’re in it, you’re in it.”