Local Natives | Of Dreamers and Realists

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Photographs by Benjamin Hoste for LAist

When reminiscing upon a home-cooked meal with five fresh-faced Silver Lake transplants, it donned upon me: Perseverance is all the Local Natives have ever known. The sort of bullish tenacity that veers dangerously close to thickheadedness because you end up living not only yours, but someone else's dream. Their passion simply knows no bounds.

Some six years ago it all began in the ravaged back lot of a house in Riverside. It was a nascent crew and a relatively different vision, but perhaps the same starting point for many bands of that time: Love Juice Labs Recording Studios.

The setting, of course, has as much long-lasting significance as the bands that spawned from it—most notably the Inland Empire's crown jewel, the frenetic pop punk outfit Rufio. Be that as it may, the ephemeral circumstances afforded some of us an unlikely and, ultimately, extraordinary crossing of paths. One that we would fail to recall for years, only to exhume years later with utmost awe.

The long-lost situation was a peculiar juncture at which both of our budding bands were recording demo material in close proximity (within the curtilage of an existing house). Ironically, the memory was so distant that only two of five Local Natives, then called Cavil At Rest, could possibly reach back into the ashes for a hazy glimpse of that simultaneous occurrence.

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From a musician's standpoint the band's rigorous and particularly precocious approach to songwriting was nothing short of awe-inspiring, but from a critic's it strayed towards the garden-variety, for it was a formative chapter in many a forgotten book.

And thus the memory provided a stark distinction between the way of dreamers and of realists. The wholly unidealized treatment of contemporary life, however, set in like a brick amidst an ankle-deep marsh—not only slow, but impending.

"You can write a song and believe with all your heart that it's the best thing you've ever written. But unless you're willing to become a businessman as well, you're not going to go anywhere. We're all equally businessmen and musicians right now," explains guitarist/vocalist Ryan Hahn.

The imminent shift may have taken years of toiling away at the local circuit and a full-fledged line-up change to fully grasp. But the evolution is amplified by a collective mutuality comparable to that of an eighty year old couple.

"I think we're sort of anomalous when it comes to bands. Our band is really democratic and really collaborative," Hahn reveals. "Everyone is helping each other with every single part. It's really arduous, but we come out with this thing that, in the end, none of us would have originated independently."
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Accordingly, the band seems to avail themselves of nearly every opportunity to function as a whole. A swift name alteration, general relocation and especially the subsequent decision to live with one another not only seems befitting, but necessary. "In our ears, it was something totally new and totally different; Something that deserves a new beginning," proclaims front man Taylor Rice. "We always like to say that it was never a full-time project until a few months ago, until we finished the album really. My job was in the way or school was in the way. Somebody always had something."

The only thing that could conceivably produce the type of resounding success they have long pined for is a clearer strategy. But, ultimately, the long-winded quest of becoming entangled in and wholly in tune with the fate of Local Natives demonstrates their maniacal determination.

That's not to say the band dictated the outcome. More often than not an overwhelming triumph hinges upon forces beyond your control, knowing exactly when to tilt your head and start anew. The up-hill struggle, however, is an indispensable part of the process of maturity and learning.

Occasionally the stars align, and a band manages to bring a neglected voice to the fore, utilize an experimental approach and break new ground; self-mastery effectively supersedes self-discovery—but not often.