If the
haunted sound of the White Fence self-titled
wasn’t mysterious enough, check out this little bit of urban indie pop folk
lore:
So this
buddy of mine close to White Fence in LA was playing “go-between” for the band
and some smarmy set of fast talking Capitol A & R reps. There was a meeting,
merriment, slaps on the back and the obligatory “you’re in good hands” show of
obsequious cradling gestures. The tape was played to a few other talent tasters
sporting the Miata midlife crisis ponytail-combover who were interested but
demanded 360 package details in turn for a draconian publishing rights deal. A
Pitchfork reviewer scout got the tweet about the leak and rolled up to 1740
Vine Street in vain hopes to be the first to deduce the latest White Fence
offering with acute decimal deconstructionism.
But he
was too late, the “go-between” was being escorted down a hallway before being
handed over to two bouncer looking dudes who shoved him into a waiting limo.
The limo drove out somewhere in the middle of Joshua Tree National Forest with
the chauffer playing “Lillian” on a loop the entire time. The middle man was
left for dead surrounded by trippy Joshua Trees and haunted by a hallucinated
vision of Gram Parsons brought on by the lack of hydration. Then a mirage of
Phil Kauffman pulled up in a Day-Glo hearse and said, “Hey man, you need a ride
or something…man?”
After
some 12 hours of delirious rants and 24 Miller Drafts later, they were in the
Bay Area. Phil tipped his hat, leaving the man circa Market and 5th
Street. While the big label goons stole my buddy’s wallet, in his pocket he
found the fabled cassette with a label sticker that read “Lillian.” The sound
echoes what a fuzzier Gene Clark style of pop would have sounded like during a
performance on the Big T.N.T. Show or the way all the great American rockers
sounded when performing on the Top of the Pops in the late 60s. This here is
the sound of tomorrow’s White Fence.
