By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
The film is Life as a House, and not only did screenwriter Mark Andrus give the band Guster a huge shout-out in the opening sequence, but he also named three of the movie's characters after its members -- Ryan Miller, Adam Gardner and Brian Rosenworcel -- and featured two Guster songs on the soundtrack.
"Our goal is to have as many people into our band, to hear it, as possible," says co-guitarist and vocalist Gardner. Andrus, in his own, vaguely stalkerish way, is helping Guster bring this about. Now it's up to the trio to follow through -- which might be a challenge, given the direction of its forthcoming album and the public's historic reluctance to accept changes in sound.
"The first impression of this record is that you could almost change the name of the band," says Gardner.
Guster built a reputation on its unique instrumentation: two acoustic guitars and bongos, with assorted other hand-percussion instruments. The players met in 1992, when they were freshman at Boston's Tufts University. It wasn't long before they started making a name for themselves in Beantown's music scene using the tried-and-true methods of daytime busking and nighttime gigging to grab and hold people's attention.
The group independently released its debut album, Parachute, in 1994, and began traipsing across the country to spread the Guster gospel, free of the restraints -- and perks -- of being on a label. "The label obviously is one way of [getting maximum exposure]; the other way is to tour relentlessly, which is what we've been doing since 1995," says Gardner.
Following their graduation from college, the boys recorded a second CD, 1996's Goldfly, again on their own label. Two years later it was picked up and re-released by Hybrid/Sire; the dark "Airport Song," which sounds like Dave Matthews gone punk lite, was a radio hit.
A year later, Guster released the triumphant Lost and Gone Forever. Recorded by acclaimed British producer Steve Lillywhite, the album is a near-flawless alt-pop venture that many liken to the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, but one that also owes a debt to R.E.M. (In fact, it's hard not to get Guster's "Center of Attention" mixed up with the Georgia band's "Near Wild Heaven.") Rosenworcel's enthusiastic hand drumming serves as a solid anchor for Miller and Gardner's soaring harmonies and pleasant strumming. Boosted by nonstop touring, including spots supporting the Barenaked Ladies and Widespread Panic, the record generated modest sales (approximately 200,000 copies) that reflected Guster's smallish but loyal fan base.
Gardner predicts that a portion of that fan base -- which has grown steadily over the past ten years -- will defect once the group's fourth record comes out next spring (this time on Reprise, another Warner imprint, which scooped Guster up when Sire folded). On it, Guster taps the talents of producer Roger Moutenot, whose work with Yo La Tengo the band admires. "This record is different from the past ones because we didn't limit ourselves to just the guitars and the bongos," Gardner explains. "We're using all sorts of stuff. I picked up a banjo and didn't even know how to play it. Ryan's playing bass; Brian's playing a drum kit, and I'm playing piano. We decided to just have fun and add more colors to the palette."
In addition to expanding their instrumentation, the players decided to broaden their lyrical content, as well. Gardner says that while he and his cohorts are generally jolly people, their music up to now has been characterized by a distinct dichotomy. "The music is happy and bouncy, but when you take a closer look at the lyrics, it's like, 'Ooh, that's dark.'" Case in point: "What You Wish For," which bops happily along even while it laments the hopelessness of dreams actually coming true.
"That's something we tried not to do on this next record. We recognized that it's easier to write downer lyrics, but we don't want a bunch of downer lyrics. There's a song on our new record called 'I Hope Tomorrow's Like Today,'" Gardner says, chuckling. "Ah! Hope! A lyric with 'hope' in it!" Quite a stretch for a band that has written lyrics about a friend's suicide, and has previously kept positive love songs off its albums.
"It's easier to write a 'Fuck you' love song than it is to write an honest, from the heart, 'I love you' song," insists Gardner. "It's so much easier to say, 'Fuck you, you missed the boat, you shouldn't have dumped my ass.' Heartache is easier."
In Guster's case, though, heartache set to acoustic instruments has been a winning formula. The decision to move in an entirely different direction feels at times like a risky proposition to Gardner.