Flying high

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 01/12/2016 (3303 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

One of the first things Paper Kites singer Sam Bentley asks over the phone is if there will be snow in Winnipeg when he and his bandmates arrive this week.

For the fivesome from Melbourne, Australia, the winter weather clearly still holds a bit of novelty — scrolling through their most recent Instagram posts, two are dedicated to frosty temperatures, and Bentley describes their excitement at watching the snow fall out the window of a venue as they played a show earlier on the tour.

The blustery local forecast will be a stark difference from the last time the Paper Kites were in town; the band played the Winnipeg Folk Festival in July and, despite Bentley being quite ill, had “the best time,” especially during their workshop performances.

“We really enjoyed doing the workshops, which we’d never done before,” says Bentley. “Just kinda sharing the stage with two other bands that we hadn’t met until then and then basically playing along to each other’s songs — it’s kind of funny, because you don’t know the chord progressions, so you’re sort of faking it, but the audience seemed to enjoy it, so that was really fun.”

Bentley, who pens the lyrics for the Paper Kites, also got the opportunity to meet one of his songwriting idols, Colin Hay. The former Men at Work frontman asked the band if he could hang out with them backstage in their trailer, and Bentley took the opportunity to confess his love of Hay’s song I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You. Hay ended up dedicating the powerful, heartbreaking ballad to Bentley during his tweener set on the mainstage later that night.

“It was the light of my life,” says Bentley.

Bentley is no lightweight in the songwriting department himself — his lyrics carry a clever warmth and relatable candor that make for easy but emotional listening.

For the band’s new sophomore record, twelvefour, he decided to try a new tactic and write only between midnight and 4 a.m. — according to some, those are peak hours of creativity.

“I think the sound of working within those hours, you can really hear it in the record. There’s something romantic and melancholy about solitude within that time of night, and that’s kinda how I wanted to write; those ‘80s-influenced guitar sounds and stuff, that was just what was coming out at that time of night,” he says.

Twelvefour marks a bit of a sonic shift for the band, moving into a more pop-focused stream with elements of folk, rather than the other way around. There’s more electricity, both literally and figuratively, but it suits them.

“We’re constantly having conversations about the sort of band that we are, and the sort of music we believe we do well and what we can actually pull off as a band, because I just don’t think we’re the sort of band that has one sound and will just always reproduce that sound on the next record,” says Bentley. “I just don’t think, as an artist, I am capable of doing that — I’m constantly discovering new music, constantly wanting to push my own idea of what I think is good music.

“Often that’s what writing music is: you’re really just trying to impress yourself. You want to write something you would listen to, but also you want other people to be able feel whatever it is you’re putting into it. I would never want to get to a point where our music was so untranslatable that people couldn’t be moved by it. No. 1, you need to be able to connect with people.”

Tickets for their Dec. 2 show in Winnipeg at the Park Theatre sold out quickly, so a second show was added on Dec. 1, which is now also sold out — as are many of their other North American tour dates this fall. Given the fact they don’t get much, if any, radio play here and rely almost solely on word of mouth and performances at events such as folk fest to increase their fanbase, Bentley says the band is constantly in awe when they play to a full house of people who know all the words to their songs.

“We are always, always surprised. It’s still so strange,” he says with a laugh. “I don’t think any of us expected our music to connect over here in the way that it has. The rooms are constantly getting bigger each time we come here.

“It just seems people are connecting with our music all the way over here and it’s always incredibly flattering to come to a place you’ve never played before, or you’ve only played a few times, and have people come along to your show. That’s kind of the dream — we’re very fortunate to be doing what we’re doing.”

erin.lebar@freepress.mb.caTwitter: @NireRabel

 

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