Introducing Apex Manor

In 2007 The Broken West, having signed to the venerable Merge Records label, broke out of Echo Park and hit the national stage with there homegrown brand of Southern California rock. Their debut album, I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, found the band exploring four decades of the sounds of L.A. music--from the canyons to the beaches. Over the course of two full-lengths and an EP, vocalist Ross Flournoy and his bandmates carved out a place in L.A.'s storied musical history before disbanding after 2008.

Fast forward to 2011: Flournoy is back under the guise of Apex Manor, his new project, with an album out January 25th on Merge. I recently caught up with Ross to discuss, among other things, what he's been up to since last taking the stage, the geneisis of Apex Manor, his former band, what we can expect in 2011 and why you won't see him banging a drum wearing a headdress.

Your new album is entitled The Year of Magical Drinking. Tell me a little about that. Are we talking metaphorically, literally, or a little bit of both? 

I would say both, but weighted a bit more on the side of the literal.  

One Sunday afternoon in April, I was out in front of my house waiting for Brian Whelan – co-producer of the record and Broken West bandmate – to pick me up, and that title came into my head, obviously a play on the Didion book. At that moment I didn't even know what the band was gonna be called or what songs would be on the record, but I knew that was the title. 

I spent a good deal of 2009 – and a good deal of 2010, for that matter – hanging out at my house, writing songs and drinking a lot. So it just felt like a home run.  

I remember in an interview we did together in 2007 you told me a little about Apex Manor. It was your friend's house situated in the hills somewhere on the Eastside, yes?

Yeah, the home of Adam Vine – one of my best friends, current housemate, longtime songwriting partner and Apex Manor bandmate.  

It was a duplex he had in Silverlake, not far from the Red Lion. It's on a street called Apex, and we just came to call it "Apex Manor." It was a really special place – killer backyard with lemon trees and an awesome lawn for lounging. Great views of downtown. Seemed like the sun always shined there. 

Was working with Adam the impetus of the name?  

Not really. I'd cycled through probably a dozen names that were under serious consideration – several of which I told Merge I had settled on. In fact, I had a different name that I told them was the absolute final. And everyone was ready to move on that one, though I could tell that Mac – bless his heart for this – was wary of it. 

All along, any and all names I was considering, Vine would vet. Early in that process I'd thrown out Apex Manor as a possibility, so that was always in the quiver. 

So we're all ready to roll with this other name, and I have a preliminary conversation with Maggie – the art director at Merge – about ideas for the record art. She asked me to lay out my "vision" of the record, what it meant to me, why I liked the title I'd picked, etc…and she asked if I had any other ideas for a band name. I mentioned Apex Manor and she sort of said, "Hey, that's it!" And she was right. It took having that conversation with her for me to see that that was the band name. 

I know Vine recently moved back to Los Angeles from Washington D.C. What is his role in the songwriting process/band? Who else is filling out the band now? 

I remember reading something four or five years ago about how (John) Vanderslice had (John) Darnielle proof – and in some instances revise – all of the lyrics he'd written for one of his records. And I remember thinking that I'd like to have that relationship with Vine someday, which I was able to do for this record. He's the Hunter to my Garcia, the Taupin to my John...the Darnielle to my Vanderslice.

It ended up there were six songs on the record I wrote by myself and four that he and I co-wrote. But even for the songs in which he didn't have a hand writing, he was involved. For the ones I wrote, he might suggest I change a word here or there…most of the time I'd listen, other times I'd stick to what I had. Nevertheless, every word on the record passed his eyes before I sang it. 

In a lot of ways Magical Drinking feels like a sort of 'return to form;' hearkening back to the first Broken West LP (I Can't Go On, I'll Go On). Was this a conscious decision, or was the second BW album (Now Or Heaven) a little more experimental in focus? 

It wasn't a conscious decision. It was the record I wanted to write and make. 

The second Broken West record has been the source of many, many discussions between Brian [Whelan] and Danny [Iead] and me. In hindsight, I don't really think that record was that much of a departure or that experimental. 

However, I do see how it's different from our first record. As Brian says, it just "sounds colder." I think one of the tricks with Now Or Heaven is that that record was very reactive: it was a reaction to us feeling like we'd been labeled a "power pop" band. We had this mentality that "we'd show 'em," you know? That we wouldn't be pigeonholed. Which, in hindsight, is not a good way to go about things. Ambition is good, but basing your decisions in response to how people perceive you is most certainly not.  

Having said that, I listened to it recently for the first time in a long time and it held up pretty fucking well. I'm really proud of it, especially in light of the shit we got for it. I think the songs, by and large, are better than the ones from the first record. If I could go back and change anything, it would probably be some of the decisions we made in terms of tracking and overall production. 

I've got a very good friend who works at Merge who very sweetly said at one point that there was never any doubt I'd be re-signed – which was really nice of her to say. But between when we told them The Broken West was done and when Merge signed on for what I was working on, that felt like the furthest thing in the world from a foregone conclusion. And it shouldn't have been a foregone conclusion – two mediocre-selling records a solo career does not make. 

I sent a CD-R of five or six demos to both Mac and Laura in late December 2009, thinking this was sort of my shot. I really wanted to stay on Merge, but obviously that was gonna be up to them. So when Laura texted me about a month later – which was so appropriate in the low-key Merge style – that they were down for me doing a record, I truly felt like I had a new lease on life. Like I'd been given a whole new chance, a fresh start. I felt empowered and totally liberated. I tried to cast aside all external concerns and influences and go about making the record I wanted to make. 

While I was writing and making the record, I didn't listen to a lot of music that was "buzzy" or current. I didn't really give a f--k what chillwave was or what Pitchfork was jerking off to. What some a--hole in Echo Park was doing with a harmonium and his limp dick was of no interest to me. My thought was:  I'm a guy who writes melodic, up-tempo rock songs and I should roll with that. And I guess for the first time I stopped viewing it as a liability and started viewing it as a strength. 

I figured I was never going to be the coolest kid in school and there was no point in trying to be that. I don't wear a headdress or v-neck t-shirts. I don't have four dudes chanting and playing floor toms, and I'm not ripping off Paul Simon, or the Africans he ripped off. So I figured I'd just do what I wanted to do.  

Touché. So, you recorded this album with Dan Long. How hands on is he in terms of the direction; the production and the 'sound'? 

Well, first of all it bears mentioning that Brian Whelan and Dan share production credit for this record. And each was invaluable. 

I'd pretty much fully demoed every song on the record prior to proper recording. So from fall of 2009 up until May 2010 – when we went into the studio to track drums – I was writing and fleshing out these songs at home: working out all the parts, the structures, etc. And as I'd finish things that I liked or thought had potential, I'd send them to Dan to get his feedback. 

Brian's role, in a sense, was more immediate. Pretty soon after I moved to Pasadena in late 2008, he started coming over about two to three times a week, just to hang, play guitar, drink and bro out. So after I finally got over my "stage fright," I started playing him some of the demos. And immediately he had great advice on how to improve some of the songs – that kid has great instincts. He's basically the closest thing to a musical genius I've ever encountered. So he'd say, "Hey, why don't you move that verse over here" or "try repeating that chorus" or "try starting the song in that spot." "The Party Line" and "Elemental Ways Of Speaking" are two examples that come to mind of songs that greatly benefited from his input on their structure.  

There was about a six week window after we'd tracked drums but before I went to Dan Long's studio where I took the sessions back to my house to do overdubs. And Brian was over there pretty much everyday – playing, singing, and coming up with ideas. 

To get back to your original question, I'd say Dan Long was only "hands-on" when he needed to be, which is the best kind of "hands-on." If the train was really going off the rails, he'd speak up. If some s--t was really going down, he'd step in and make sure it stopped.  

Sonically, he was the man. I think this record sounds totally titties, and that's pretty much all him. He just knows how to make a record sound f--king awesome. He's all you could want in a producer – killer engineer, genius mixer, and a great hang. Plus, his wife, Darby, and daughter, Violet, are super warm and fun to be around. His house – where his studio is – started to feel like home. 

Both with the band and, now, solo you've consistently tapped into the classic pop songwriting history of the west coast, specifically Southern California. Are you a fan of Warren Zevon, Jackson Browne and the like? 

Definitely a fan of both of them. Brian especially is a Zevon fan. And funnily enough, my manager Dave described the record as Zevon-esque. 

I suppose the guy from that scene I most relate to is Nilsson. We watched that documentary about him at my house the other night and there was a s--t ton about him I felt a kinship with. Most of which was not good.  

What can we expect in terms of live shows in 2011? 

We're touring the west coast and the mountains in February. Then we'll head to SXSW to play the Merge showcase, as well as some other events, I imagine. It looks like from there we'll head to the east coast – though that hasn't been finalized yet. There are a couple of sweet ass festivals it looks like we'll play in the fall – between April and then we've got nothing on the books as of now, but I'm sure we'll be touring our balls off.

Thanks, Ross. See you out there.