By the time Painted Ruins arrived in 2017, Grizzly Bear had become the kind of band people write thinkpieces about—genre-defying, press-shy, and weirdly good at staying relevant despite doing just about everything wrong, commercially speaking. Five years had passed since their last album, during which time the band’s members scattered like indie rock dandelion seeds—dabbling in fatherhood, culinary ventures, experimental solo projects, and, apparently, off-the-grid woodland life.
But if you thought they’d return with a polished, crowd-pleasing reunion record, think again.
“We tried to keep the whole experience pretty open,” said Christopher Bear, drummer and sometimes-vocalist, with the kind of measured chill that comes from either inner peace or total burnout. “We’d start with little pieces of things… not force anything too quickly.” According to him and bassist-producer Chris Taylor, this new approach was less about reinventing the wheel and more about not making the same mistake twice. “In the past, a couple of us would come with a bunch of songs and it was like two different records being made at the same time,” Taylor explained. “So we were trying to do this in a way we could all get on the same page more quickly.”
Translation: less indie rock civil war, more cooperative noise-making.
For a band that’s constantly lumped in with the so-called Brooklyn indie scene of the mid-2000s, Grizzly Bear still rejects the yearbook nostalgia of that era. “Not like a Brooklyn-ness scene necessarily,” Bear clarified. “We were always kind of making music in our own world.” Which is just as well, since their peers are either defunct, dad-rock, or DJing yoga retreats.
When asked if they thought of Painted Ruins as the line between becoming “career artists” or “era artists,” both responded with an elegant shrug. “We’re pretty solely invested in making something that we’re excited about,” Bear said. “Not so much doing it to uphold a certain appearance.”
That artistic detachment might sound precious coming from someone else, but Grizzly Bear has always made a point of resisting easy narratives—whether sonic, political, or personal. Still, it’s hard not to see Painted Ruins as a product of its time, riddled with themes of decay, confusion, and displacement. “There was plenty of anxiety when we were making the record,” Bear admitted, before noting it was “before our current era,” meaning the Trumpocalypse hadn’t quite begun. “There are definitely very personal lyrics… and there are slightly more exterior narratives,” he said, careful not to get too specific. “Nothing is overtly political, but you can take it however you want.”
This brand of thoughtful ambiguity carries over into the album’s sonic textures, where Taylor and Bear were less concerned with studio perfection than with capturing spontaneous moments. “We always enjoy getting to the phase of playing stuff live,” said Bear, adding that they tried to infuse a little of that energy into the record. Even if it wasn’t literal jamming, the spirit was there—right alongside whatever moment briefly made one song sound “like Joe Cocker singing ‘Leave Your Hat On.’”
“Nothing against Joe Cocker,” Taylor laughed. “But I don’t think that was on our minds.”
Ultimately, they seem at peace with the fact that people want to make their own meaning of Painted Ruins, be it political allegory or breakup catharsis. “If anything, I like the idea of personal experience mirroring the confusion going on around you,” Bear offered. “But it’s not required that it is either.”
That kind of intentional noncommittal may sound evasive, but for Grizzly Bear, it’s the whole point. They’re not trying to be the voice of a generation—they’re just trying to make something they like.
Even if you hear Joe Cocker in it.
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Mourning Sound" below!
