Issue No. 4 // July 2023
Checker Bloom is not only an indie surf project, but a quartet of friends that work well together. Resembling a desert mirage, their creative arrangements and catchy melodies ripple into an aura of psychedelic optimism.
A conversation with Checker Bloom
AB: What allows you guys to collaborate so well together?
Bryan: A mantra I have been using lately is ‘yes and’. When someone has an idea, how can we continually ‘yes and’ this until it’s just this amazing tune. Trying not to say no to stuff until you get to a point where you really need to say no.
AB: I dig ‘yes and’ but I’m curious how ideas stay centric. How do songs not devolve into absurdism?
Zach: I think it’s really important for members of a band to get the idea of what the band is. Like, what is the sound of the band? What are we trying to convey? We can all connect on what we want the band to be, versus how we want to be within the band. We are not pulling little tidbits from all of our own experiences, but creating something new all together.
AB: It sounds like being vulnerable and honest, as well as communicating a head of time, is key. Specifically regarding aspiring artists who want to form bands, what advice would you give?
Jonny: One thing I love about being in this band is how intentional we are when we spend time together. We’re friends. You want to wait for your champions. You want to wait for the right crew. Pick people you want to be around.
AB: I heard what you are saying. The relationships we have are foundational for what we do in life.
Jonny: Yeah. Absolutely. Be the person people want to be around.
Bryan: Learning to let go is a powerful skill to develop as an artist. It might not sound sexy for idealistic people. At the end of the day, I rather have Checker Bloom, than not. I’m ok letting a lot of my ideas go in the name of having these guys around and making cool ass memories.
AB: I’m going to keep that with me. We have to let some of our dreams die, so the more important ones can flourish. Any other words of wisdom?
Martin: Be ready to make some mistakes because you’re going to fuck up.
Johnny: If you’re not smiling when you’re playing, you’re doing something wrong.
Zach: It’s really about the fun stuff. If you're not having fun, being friendly, making memories with the people, you’re not going to make the music. You’ll remember it - it’s about the people.
Checker Bloom is… Bryan Hatchell (vocals & rhythm guitar), Zach Miller (lead guitar), Martin Pittis (bass), Jonny Roberts (drums)
Interview by: Almost Beachglass
I met Max in the Lettered Streets. With a banjo tethered to him by a repurposed bike inner tube, I felt drawn to ask him about his connection to music. Learning that Max is a traveler, versed in hopping trains and street performing, I knew I needed to learn more.
WARNING: TRAIN HOPPING IS TRESPASSING.
A conversation with Max
AB: How did you start traveling?
Max: It started when I was young with my dad. My parents were split up, so I would travel to go be with him. And then, he and I would just go on massive road trips with no destination, or go backpacking for like months at a time. Maybe not months. We never broke over two months. But yeah, he taught me how to camp and just travel. It kind of opened my eyes to how much shit there is out there.
AB: When did you realize that this isn't just part of your upbringing, but also part of your future…i guess what I’m trying to ask: is this your passion?
Max: Oh, for sure. I feel really claustrophobic if I stay in one city for too long. I'm pushing it with Bellingham. It's been like seven months. I think that's the longest time I've been in one place for a very long time.
AB: What attracts you to continually travel?
Max: It's kind of like always reaching for something that you can’t have. That you know you can never obtain, like the forbidden fruit. Maybe if I go to this place, I'll have the same feeling I had the first time I really traveled. It's always really good.
AB: Would you say that busking is inherently a part of traveling?
Max: For me, it is. For the train kids and whatnot, that’s a big part because it pays for your beer at night. It'll get you meeting people that are local. Oftentimes, they'll offer you showers or just a living room, so you can sleep inside. Food is a big one. And then, you make a few bucks for tobacco. Music is just a common thing that all humans similarly share together. Even if you hate music, it’s still a part of you - because you hate it.
*chuckles
AB: Dude, I love it. So you're telling me that busking is a way to authentically connect with people and network when traveling?
Max: For sure. When you play music, you're connecting on a whole different level than just talking.
AB: Switching gears from the music, what kind of modes of transportation do you utilize?
Max: I was hopping freight for a long time. I think when I started, I would just go via Greyhound. I would travel to see my grandparents and to go to shows. And then, at shows, if I have a few beers, I start talking to people - anybody if I'm drunk. Before you know it, you're hanging out at some person's house and continuing the party from the show - where you meet the band. And, you get to hang out with them. And then, all of a sudden, you've got a contact in that city. Next time you go there, you let them know you're on your way. And then you see him again, and then you meet more people. Before you know it, you've decided to move there. Rinse and repeat. That's how I really started traveling.
AB: How did you learn to hop trains?
Max: It's pretty much a hands-on learning thing. But if you're lucky, you can have a connection in town with the railroad company, either a worker or someone who's just in the union, or just someone who hops out regularly - you get a thing called a crew change. And, it's kind of like a bus schedule for trains. Very, very nice.
AB: It's like having the other team’s audibles?
Max: Yeah, you can plan from there. Planning helps, because very rarely do you actually have a plan that comes to fruition. There's a lot of fucking waiting. And, that's when we play music. Play music and drink. When you're on the train, everything's going smooth. And, that's also a huge opportunity to learn music. You'll start listening to the rhythm of the tracks. A banjo, stereotypically, if you play clawhammer style, it's got the boom-ticka-boom. And, it's all because we're all learning on the train.
AB: Do you use the train like a metronome?
Max: Kinda, yeah. Almost sounds like D-beat.
AB: What should one be wary of when traveling?
Max: The police. Hardcore drugs. It takes so many people. It’s sad.
AB: Do you think that hardcore drugs are synonymous with this lifestyle or is that a misconception?
Max: I know that drinking for sure is in our culture. But, hardcore drugs come in a lot with the homelessness. If you're stuck in a city, and you've got no money and someone offers you that and you've got no place to sleep, nothing else to do, like yeah, sounds pretty nice just to get fucked up, I suppose.
AB: So I guess what I'm hearing, a golden rule of the road is: know where you want to go next.
Max: That helps.
AB: Are there values that you have that benefit your travels?
Max: I'm very much in that mindset that if I have something, then I'm sharing it. If I only have one, then we're gonna split it. I’ve always been like that. Also, patience - it makes life a little bit more tolerable.
Interview by: Almost Beachglass
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A howl blew through the canyon like a cold, sharp, wind. Two archeologists paused for long enough to hear the second sound, same as the first, or was it an echo? One asked the other, but the two had no answers, so they went back to examining their maps.
The howl blipped on a piece of military equipment manned by a miserable soldier, who was staked out two weeks straight listening for the dull crunch of foreign mining drones far below the crust of the earth. Not a drone, he thought, and went back to his crossword.
In a garden in Kentucky, a retired librarian mistook the howl for that of her dogs. "Shut your trapper-keepers, you silly-melons!" She howled back through the screen door. Most people didn't bother to hear the second howl, once they’d determined what the first one was.
The howl went off like a siren in Dubai. A young doctor, twelve hours into a grueling shift, pulled one node of a stethoscope from his ear after the sound jolted him from a momentary doze. When the second howl rang out, he'd already sunk the stethoscope back into his brain and drowned out the world. Kerthunk, kerthunk, went the heart of his patient. Sleep, he thought to himself. That's what I need.
An Olympic sprinter heard the howl behind the blast of the starter pistol. Don't think. Run. Don't think. Run. Her mantra carried her out in front of the pack. The second howl sounded like wolves at her heels. Run!
Two howls were heard around the world that day. Ghostly sounds. Shudders and shivers and rainy walks home from the grocery store.
A teenager pulled up her hood when the howl sounded. Like a reflex. Didn't sound right. Sounded like a distress signal. Bad vibes.
A seasoned baker paused her kneading routine for the first time in 23 weeks, letting a lump of sourdough slump in her hands. She had never heard a thing like that, and she used to go to punk shows. Hmph, she thought. Maybe I'm finally losing touch with the youth.
Fishermen pricked their fingers, ballet dancers twisted their ankles, and little league baseball players across the globe accidentally hit home runs to thunderous applause.
A journalist wrote an investigative report on the howling sounds. She published it on Newz.web.634/. It got four frowny face reactions.
Not many others wrote about the howls. A sweaty hiker wrote in his notes app, reminder to Google vampire bat call when back in service, and stiffened his pace with a nervous gulp.
Even fewer acted on their theories as to what had caused the howls. One woman went as far as to put up a second dream catcher in her sunroom. An elderly man in Brussels tweaked a screw on his homemade time-machine. The howling of my future selves! He cackled to himself.
No one ever figured out the story behind the howls. Most people forgot about them. There was enough to worry about, after all.
By: Liam Chamberlin
A short story
