At age 30, Jonathan Diener has already accomplished things most young people dream of when they’re first starting to play music. He formed a band with his older brother Nick, way back in 2002. They were called the Swellers, and they were great. The Swellers existed for 13 years, and on paper, you might think their career was one to dream of: They signed a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, they toured with Paramore, they were on multiple iterations of the Warped Tour, they played to audiences in far-reaching places as Japan and Brazil, they earned themselves fawning press from multiple corners of the ever-dwindling rock-journalism world. Diener was even voted runner-up for DRUM! Magazine’s Punk Drummer Of The Year superlative — twice.
Runner-up kind of sums up the Swellers in a nutshell. Everyone who came in contact with the band knew they had something special, from their early recordings being a skate-punk revival in a time period when mall-screamo was sweeping the nation, to their final releases that showed a lyrical and musical maturity, allowing the Diener brothers to document their personal growth via song. But the general public never quite clicked with the Swellers, as the general public often misses what’s right under their nose, and the band eventually broke up in 2015.
Since then, Diener — who, due to the grueling lifestyle of a professional touring musician on the small-club circuit, never was able to attend college — has had to figure out how to move on from the thing that took up half of his life and gave him both all of the joy and all of the pain he could ever possibly handle. Predictably, the slowdown and eventual death of the Swellers led him to working at Guitar Center and Starbucks, two places jam-packed with musicians either trying to make it out for the first time or trying to earn enough to pay back the years of credit card debt for taking their shot and coming up short. As he began to rebuild his life, he saw bands he brought out on tour years ago leapfrog him, his own city be abandoned by the federal government (Flint, Michigan, still doesn’t have clean water, by the way) — he even had the opportunity a few years ago to audition for a legendary skate-punk band in need of a new drummer but, maybe prophetically, was a runner-up for the gig.
You’d think someone put through the ringer would be carrying some baggage, and you’d be right, which is why Diener appropriately formed a new band called Baggage as the Swellers dissolved. Only this time, he wasn’t going to be behind the drum kit —he was going to sing the words he had been writing for years, and play bass on top of it. Two self-released EPs followed, Cheaper Than Therapy and The Good That Never Comes, full of crunchy, dreamy alt-rock that pulls from the ’90s but continues to look forward. Diener’s voice feels natural and relaxed — ironic, given his lyrics frequently revolve around his own damaged mental health.
Yesterday, Baggage released a spectacular new song called “Horseshoe,” and with it, subtly announced they had signed to Smartpunk Records and would be releasing their full-length debut later this year. After years of struggle, Diener is finally making music on his own terms, his own timetable and his own vision. Not bad for a runner-up. I spoke with Diener about the making of the song and its companion music video, which you can watch below.
COLORS OF INSOMNIA: First off: "Horseshoe" is a great song. Musically, it throws back to the dissonant melodies of ’90s bands like Failure and Hum as well as their mid-’00s descendants such as Title Fight and Balance And Composure. But I think what sets the track apart are the lyrics. It's clearly an honest look at what it takes to carry on with music after music has already failed you a handful of times. Did you ever feel like you were sharing too much?
JONATHAN DIENER: I think this song was the result of finally giving into my real feelings. I pushed back for so long, played the politician and forced a smile acting like things were fine when in reality I was jaded, bitter and falling apart — just like our band. Even when I was filling in on drums for bands around the world, living what might be the dream for some people, it all started to feel so hollow and routine. After clawing to get where I was and watching it slip away, I decided to let go and see what falling felt like. To be completely honest, it felt pretty good. When I showed the lyrics to a few friends the reaction was usually, “Jesus Christ, dude, that’s bleak. So yeah, it’s dead on.” Touring did something to my brain that I may never be able to explain, but hopefully this song can help you feel it. I just want to have fun again.
The video for "Horseshoe" isn't as slowed down as, say, Coldplay's "Yellow" (ironically, another song this track kinda-sorta feels like), but it still has that dreamlike quality to it. Can you take me through the conceptualization process?
I was always a fan of Weezer videos and I’ve been fighting to do a true oneshot video for years in several projects. For this song I wanted the lyrics to take the lead, but keep the visuals interesting. Initially I knew I wanted the camera to keep backing away and show us getting smaller and smaller, showing how insignificant bands are. Then when the Mata Brothers (Bryce & Brandon) brought up doing the over-crank idea where you play the song faster than normal and slow it down to normal speed, making it appear in slow motion, I knew it would be extra surreal. My brother just moved into a literal cornfield and I couldn’t stop visualizing that as a location for us to shoot. Once we locked that down, I wanted some extra motion and to tell the story of our band and how I’ve felt fighting for it, I slowly have each member walk away until it’s just me all alone again. There isn’t much happening, but there’s a lot of story.
The music video appears to just be one take. How many times did you shoot it to get the winning performance?
We spent most of the shoot setting up and figuring out our cues, knowing full well that the very last take would be the one we’d use. By the time saw the sun setting and creating that eerie, beautiful backdrop, we went for our best take and that very night Bryce Mata already had an edited version of the video for us. We’re all kinda crazy for doing this in a day.
I was just playing "Horseshoe" very loudly on my laptop and my wife got up and closed the door to her office. Compliment or insult?
I’m sure she’s just angry that we’re not playing Cleveland. But honestly, I hate loud sounds too. Sometimes I just need silence or to decompress. Our new album is actually about sound, but we’ll talk about that later.
We now know who is releasing the Baggage full-length — Smartpunk Records. Now tell me when they're releasing it, or else.
Smartpunk has been amazing. We’ll have record release info in the next few weeks. But for now, just know it’ll be in the summer.
Catch Baggage at the following festivals this year:
May 25 - Bled Fest - Howell, MI
Oct 30 - Pre-Pre Fest - Orlando, FL
Nov 1-3 - The Fest - Gainesville, FL
Today’s subject line is a lyric from the song “Familiar Patterns” by PUP, a Canadian indie-punk four-piece whose current headlining tour is selling out venues nationwide, and for good reason — they’re goddamn incredible live. (They sold out two separate Cleveland shows, three weeks apart from one another, with virtually no crowd overlap.) Listen to the song below, and if you dig it, you can buy the record it’s from on Amazon (and by clicking that link, there’s a chance I may make a few cents):
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