Coming Soon, Plan B

Coming Soon are a lovely French band, part of a flourishing anti-folk scene over there. Plan B, September issue:

First notes: Small places make big sounds. Coming Soon are a six-piece anti-folk band from the small town Kidderminster in the French Alps. They sound a lot like Ezra Pound and cold winters and hot summers and Bob Dylan cover art from the 1960s. “We grew up listening to birds, waves, trucks and garbage men, in a small town in between a lake and a mountain with a lot of graveyards. We all had very stimulating dreams,” says de facto leader Howard Hughes. “But we left 'cause it's small and we get bored. Sex shops are too far out of town and you can always meet some old friend who owes you money. You know the Lou Reed line, don't you? There's only one good thing about a small town: you know that you want to get out. That's strong enough.” They formed in early 2005 and while scratching and studying they visited New York, to party, and Berlin to work with Kimya Dawson and Paris to work with Stanley Brinks of Herman Dune. After two grind years, hustling labels, touring constantly (including a recent slot supporting Wave Pictures) and sneaking their demos into copies of Les Inrockuptibles (to “meet big producers and get instantly famous around the world”), it paid off, Paris’ Kitchen Music finally got in touch. The debut album is called New Grids, and on the CD is a drawing of a compass. In the midst of Hebrew letters and phonetic names of faraway places is the word Kidderminster, written at south-southwest.
Second notes: Loves saves days. Within the band are lovers with clarinets and friends with cameras and brothers with each other. One pair of brothers is Leo Bear Creek (who joined the band aged 13 playing drums and ukulele) and Ben Lupus (who draws dance steps and plays a banjo). When I ask Howie for a story about love, he tells me that both are somnambulists, and when sleeping together, Leo talks and Ben answers. This story breaks Howie’s heart. “It is a collective in a way; a ‘DIY’ thing where we try to trade roles & parts, like a hip-hop band, like a mafia where nobody wants to be the accountant forever (even if it's safer), because individuality makes you get up in an angry mood every morning and the band makes life bearable. We have this anthill with five breeding queens.” On the live experience: “We trade mics, we step on each other's feet and find all sorts of last minute stage ideas. Touring is a sheer beauty, there are at least two couples in the van and I spend my afternoons looking for post offices to write to my wife. Love obviously plays a major part in this game.”