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Circuit Breakers

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It's the first Thursday in May, and the Dynamos have just driven fifteen hours straight from Austin, Texas, to play with the Humanoids, Target Market and the Bureau.

This Cicero's gig seems fueled by adrenaline from fatigue, with relief and joy at finally reaching home thrown in for good measure. Tempos are faster (think of a roller coaster out of control), stage banter is more sarcastic and the exuberant set feels like a train going off the rails. Accordingly, the crowd is dancing, rowdier, and much more into the set. "Their songs are very busy," Sean Nelson observes. "And you're never allowed to say the word 'funk' in indie rock, but there is a little bit of that. Their music is so rhythmic. It's more rhythmic than it is melodic. It's not like they're not verbal, 'cause their songs are super verbal. But they're more about the beat, which I think is really cool."

A completed demo of a new song from the July sessions with Walla supports his hypothesis. Much more danceable than past tunes, the song starts with stereo-surround keyboards that shoot like laser beams. Gradually, spacey synths begin to orbit around galloping drums and corrugated guitar barbs, until everything coalesces and whirls around itself like a flashing arcade game.

Lyrics for another new song Wasoba published on the studio blog are heartbreakingly moving: "Glaciers will melt but we'll be all right/We still have novels and songs to write/We'll go on living just like we do/We'll keep evolving if we have to."

"As we're working on stuff," Walla says, "every now and again somebody will sing a melody, or a couple of lines from one of the songs, and it's like, 'Oh my God, this is the shit you're just tossing off, that you're writing on the backs of napkins?'"

Ideally, says Walla, Barsuk — the label that nurtured Death Cab for Cutie for so many years before it signed with a major label — would want to sign So Many Dynamos. But he's not sure, and neither is the band, which seems almost bashful about having to sell itself — at the risk of coming across as insincere or disingenuous. "We've always tried to find the balance between wanting to succeed and wanting to 'make it,'" Wasoba says. "There's a difference. I'm personally afraid of coming off as we're trying to 'make it.' I'd never thought I'd say, 'Yeah, we're shopping a record around,'" he goes on, his voice slipping into a parody of an arrogant rock star. Kay chimes in: "It seems like a douche-y thing to do. It's schmooze-y."

"We have feet in doors," Wasoba says. "It's really weird. We've always been blissfully separated from [the industry side of things]. We've always been proud of how far away from that we are.

"But a label might want us. They might see it being worthwhile for them to put out our record. That's what's weird. We'd be dumb not to try it at this point."

This doesn't mean that the Dynamos are afraid of progress. "They're ambitious in the right way," says Nelson. "They're ambitious to improve and find out what their life in music might be like — rather than ambitious to get rich, or get even indie-famous. They just want to play."

Indeed, the Dynamos' definition of success revolves around the concept of maintaining its integrity and establishing artistic freedom. Above all, they know they have to delegate some responsibility so they can focus on their music — but not lose so much control that it compromises their creativity. In fact, Wasoba cites Walla's band, Death Cab for Cutie, as one of his industry role models. "Even if you take their music out of it, they're an amazing model of an independent band," he says. "Having followed them for what they've done, they've always been true [to themselves]. We're really inspired by the way they run their band.

"My personal definition of success within the context of this band, is....not trying to not be successful, but not trying to shoot ourself in the foot by being too D.I.Y.," Wasoba continues. "Having your ethic and sticking to your ethic....it doesn't have to be that strict. But being as concerned with what you're putting out — not just music, but the vibe you're putting out, what you're putting out to people."

At the May Cicero's gig, however, such concerns about the future are far away. Like the Chicago show, its set ends with a positively electric version of "Progress." Wasoba stops and addresses the crowd after the unhinged song grinds to a halt.

"Thanks, we're So Many Dynamos," he announces. "Go home."

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