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1,2,3 Tickets, Tour Dates and %{concertOrShowText}
1,2,3 Tickets, Tour Dates and %{concertOrShowText}

1,2,3Verified

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About 1,2,3

Dear Listener, I quit 1,2,3 on December 26th, 2012 and it felt amazing. The band was a year and ten songs into an album that had worn me to a husk. Out of economy and ambition, I decided to take on full production duties in the dank basement of an old stone house I was renting on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. If recording software was a guitar, I would only have known the power chords. I slept very little. While writing lyrics in my head, I pulled ink through a screen during the day to make rent. In the evenings I recorded and drank beer with my band. We were making a double album, it had been decided, called Big Weather. The idea swept into my life with a tornado that had struck my aunt’s house in 2011. Her house was surrounded by woods… she now lives in a field. This field is in Pennsylvania. We do not get tornadoes in Pennsylvania. Two weeks later Japan got hit by one of the worst tsunamis in history. I wrote one song with these things in mind and it just spread to the others. The next thing I knew this idea was in my basement, in the amplifiers, in my hard drive. My basement flooded frequently, halting production. Everything was up on blocks. We began recording storms through a screen door. I was simultaneously obsessing over 1970′s dystopian movies like Soylent Green, Stalker, Eraserhead, and Dawn of the Dead (which was filmed in a mall only two miles from my house). My multi-disc CD changer was jammed in my car, all I listened to were the three local oldies stations. I heard no synths and we used no synths, not even keys, just creaky guitars, bass and things to bang on. Eventually some vinyl sampling was used to conjure certain feelings, and add new textures. The lyrics had all the usual lovelorn, loneliness, and death-questioning that I had previously written about, only this time, more vivid and paced before, during or after a storm or disaster (with slight exceptions). Meanwhile, I let other things get away from me. Our label didn’t even respond to early rough mixes, they flat out dropped us. Our management and booking agency soon followed. We were turning down everything to record. I owed thousands in back taxes which I used to buy whatever crude recording gear we had, hoping to pay it back with an advance that never came. Tensions within the band grew about the direction of the LP. By the end of the year, my ears were ringing a constant C sharp and I was just tired. Worst of all, I became fickle, sick of writing about weather, and, it being 2012 and all, very sick of hearing about “the End.” I even wrote a song about it. So, after a brief holiday soul search, I liberated myself from the situation. The band, who also happens to be great friends of mine, took it hard, but mostly understood. It was good. I had nights free to read and refrain from drinking. I found time to pitch some occasional woo and even sleep. I recorded or wrote when I wanted and what I wanted. By the end of summer, though, it was obvious that the weather was still evolving into something new and scary. Scientists all rung unanimous that, “yes, this is real and we are causing this.” I found myself sneaking listens to the songs we hadn’t finished, rummaging through my notebooks, seeing what was good and what was maddening. I had new ideas… stories. Once again, I had perspective. With three separate nights of drunken persuasion, I coaxed my band back one at a time and we drove to a cabin near Punxsutawney to begin finishing the album. It took five months to do eight more songs and two short stories set to music. My ears now ring in A and I still occasionally find myself wanting to write what I like to call disaster ballads. It’s more interesting to be lonely in the eye of a hurricane than it is to be in a bedroom. At least, it feels that way in my bedroom. This album is undoubtedly riddled with flaws, but so are its creators, and the circumstances under which it was created… and in that regard it feels very special to me. Sincerely, Nicolas Snyder 1,2,3 Big Weather is available on limited edition vinyl. Pay whatever you want for digital. http://www.americanhermitage.com
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Genres:
Music
Band Members:
Chad Monticue - bass, Josh Sickels - drums, Nic Snyder - vocals, Mike Yamamoto - guitars
Hometown:
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

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About 1,2,3

Dear Listener, I quit 1,2,3 on December 26th, 2012 and it felt amazing. The band was a year and ten songs into an album that had worn me to a husk. Out of economy and ambition, I decided to take on full production duties in the dank basement of an old stone house I was renting on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. If recording software was a guitar, I would only have known the power chords. I slept very little. While writing lyrics in my head, I pulled ink through a screen during the day to make rent. In the evenings I recorded and drank beer with my band. We were making a double album, it had been decided, called Big Weather. The idea swept into my life with a tornado that had struck my aunt’s house in 2011. Her house was surrounded by woods… she now lives in a field. This field is in Pennsylvania. We do not get tornadoes in Pennsylvania. Two weeks later Japan got hit by one of the worst tsunamis in history. I wrote one song with these things in mind and it just spread to the others. The next thing I knew this idea was in my basement, in the amplifiers, in my hard drive. My basement flooded frequently, halting production. Everything was up on blocks. We began recording storms through a screen door. I was simultaneously obsessing over 1970′s dystopian movies like Soylent Green, Stalker, Eraserhead, and Dawn of the Dead (which was filmed in a mall only two miles from my house). My multi-disc CD changer was jammed in my car, all I listened to were the three local oldies stations. I heard no synths and we used no synths, not even keys, just creaky guitars, bass and things to bang on. Eventually some vinyl sampling was used to conjure certain feelings, and add new textures. The lyrics had all the usual lovelorn, loneliness, and death-questioning that I had previously written about, only this time, more vivid and paced before, during or after a storm or disaster (with slight exceptions). Meanwhile, I let other things get away from me. Our label didn’t even respond to early rough mixes, they flat out dropped us. Our management and booking agency soon followed. We were turning down everything to record. I owed thousands in back taxes which I used to buy whatever crude recording gear we had, hoping to pay it back with an advance that never came. Tensions within the band grew about the direction of the LP. By the end of the year, my ears were ringing a constant C sharp and I was just tired. Worst of all, I became fickle, sick of writing about weather, and, it being 2012 and all, very sick of hearing about “the End.” I even wrote a song about it. So, after a brief holiday soul search, I liberated myself from the situation. The band, who also happens to be great friends of mine, took it hard, but mostly understood. It was good. I had nights free to read and refrain from drinking. I found time to pitch some occasional woo and even sleep. I recorded or wrote when I wanted and what I wanted. By the end of summer, though, it was obvious that the weather was still evolving into something new and scary. Scientists all rung unanimous that, “yes, this is real and we are causing this.” I found myself sneaking listens to the songs we hadn’t finished, rummaging through my notebooks, seeing what was good and what was maddening. I had new ideas… stories. Once again, I had perspective. With three separate nights of drunken persuasion, I coaxed my band back one at a time and we drove to a cabin near Punxsutawney to begin finishing the album. It took five months to do eight more songs and two short stories set to music. My ears now ring in A and I still occasionally find myself wanting to write what I like to call disaster ballads. It’s more interesting to be lonely in the eye of a hurricane than it is to be in a bedroom. At least, it feels that way in my bedroom. This album is undoubtedly riddled with flaws, but so are its creators, and the circumstances under which it was created… and in that regard it feels very special to me. Sincerely, Nicolas Snyder 1,2,3 Big Weather is available on limited edition vinyl. Pay whatever you want for digital. http://www.americanhermitage.com
Show More
Genres:
Music
Band Members:
Chad Monticue - bass, Josh Sickels - drums, Nic Snyder - vocals, Mike Yamamoto - guitars
Hometown:
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

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