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Local art-rocker Matt Sage gave Fort Collins ambivalence an unequivocal pop song; now he doesn’t know how to feel about it.
Written by Elliott Johnston
Photos by Mitchell Keller
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
 Matt Sage is building a regional sonic mythology out of adventurous indie pop. His music—which has been created under the names Castles, M. Pyres and now, M. Pyres and the Skygaze Family Band—asks a question worth posing: what does it feel like to live here? What does it sound like? What kind of creative consciousness grows from our yin-yang of extremes, between mountains and plains, East and West Coasts, the city and the sticks?
Sage’s answer also contains two poles: inviting drum beats marching through clouds of tense, ambient noise; warm vocal melodies marinated in fuzzy distortion; choppy guitar chords bouncing between both sides of your headphones.
Last fall, after Sage’s long-time bandmates left for larger cities and damp, coastal forests, he spent three months writing, playing on and producing a solo recording called Consider Me, Ghost. The album’s third track, “Fort Rage,” is a major standout. In place of the knotty, abstract lyrics of his past songs is a clear argument: it’s worth staying in Fort Collins, even when close friends and collaborators jump ship in search of more challenging, creatively-inspired surrounds. The song’s salient lyric, “I don’t need to run to find my own voice…basically,” stamps on a nerve, it touches the complicated pride restless souls feel for this town.
But, despite the fact that the track has connected with listeners like no other song in his repertoire, Sage is torn about it. We recently met to speak about the song, making music in Fort Collins, and the pesky dilemma that hangs over artistic life here: should I stay or should I go?
Matter Daily: Can you talk about how the song “Fort Rage” started for you?
Matt Sage: Yeah, well it’s kind of an awkward story at this point because it’s about [Sage’s bandmate] Joseph [Yonker]. After Castles happened, he just kind of disappeared to Oregon. And it was really hard for me because he and I had been making music since we were 12 or 13.
I definitely don’t blame him for wanting to get out of Fort Collins. I already did that for myself. I went to Oregon for six months and realized that it didn’t really change my music or how I played. And so, when he left, I understood why he went and it’s really awkward for me now at this point because that’s everyone’s favorite song and it’s the song I’m trying to eschew, because it’s about him, and he plays on it, and we play it live now. He moved back to Fort Collins, and we haven’t really talked about it.
Anyway, I really didn’t need to leave home because the inspiration is all right here for the songs I write.
MD: Well, I think people are responding to it because it’s bigger than your friendship. It can be hard to be a creative person in this town. It’s comfortable, but the artistic pursuit often requires dis-ease. How do you find that balance?
MS: It’s weird because when I wrote [Consider Me, Ghost] it was like a flood of 21 songs and I didn’t know what they were really about until I sat down and started listening to them and I was like, “man, this is about being in Fort Collins.” It’s like two opposing forces pushing together: wanting to stay here, but knowing that it’s too comfortable, and trying to make it uncomfortable for myself.
MD: What has the reaction to the song been like?
MS: It’s been really positive, which is what’s really strange to me about that song. I don’t know how many people listen to the words, but if you listen to them, it’s kind of a stark song, but there is some sense of hope in it. But, it’s weird for me to have people go, “I love that song,” or quoting it to me and stuff. I wasn’t expecting that.
MD: Does the song represent a town pride thing for you?
MS: Definitely. That’s definitely where I wrote it out of, almost being like, “I don’t know why you needed to leave because everything that we know about writing songs is based in this town.” Like being pissed off at the glossy part of Fort Collins, the university culture here, and totally just feeling like you are not a part of it. It’s totally that, but at the same time, it’s town pride. But it’s also town hatred. Opposing forces.
Geographically, Fort Collins is right in-between the coasts. Right in the middle of the country. We have mountains on one side, plains on the other. Wet, cold winters, dry, hot summers. It’s a place full of extremes. I feel like it can’t do anything but leave the creative people in that same kind of state: just torn.
MD: Also, I think people want to feel pride. They want an anthem.
MS: It’s funny because there is a song on [Consider Me, Ghost] that I thought was gonna be that song for people. Like, ‘this is your Fort Collins pride song.’ And everyone was like, “No, ‘Fort Rage.’” You had to pick the one about my best friend who moved back? It’s really weird. I was just in a weird creative spot for a while. I said all this really ballsy shit in that song. Do I back it up now and stay in Fort Collins for awhile?
MD: Because of your song?
MS: Yeah. Exactly. Do I need to do that?
MD: What do you think?
MS: I don’t know. That’s why I’m in a tight spot. It’s a really heavy song. I have a lot of weird emotions about it. And it’s weird that it’s the song that everyone loves.
MD: Well, you did put it at number 3 on the album [where the single is traditionally placed].
MS: I know, it’s my fault. Totally my fault. I have a really sordid relationship with the song.
MD: That’s a really fascinating dilemma to think that you wrote the song, angry that your best friend left. Then people grab on to the song, and then you feel like you have to stay here because of it.
MS: Totally, and it makes me angry now. I was angry about that and now I’m angry about people expecting something out of the song, and from me. At the same time, it’s just four chords and a 4/4 drum beat. It’s a really simple pop song.
MD: Well, here’s another problem of creating in this town: If you aren’t motivated to create, your environment isn’t going to motivate you like a big city will. It can be like shouting in the dark. That’s another reason creative people might want to leave.
MS: And I feel like playing music in this town especially, the audience’s reinterpretation of your songs, how it communicates to them, is bounced right back to you. Fifty percent of your audience-community in Fort Collins are bands that you are friends with and play shows with. And they come up and talk to you after your set. It’s just right back in your face. It’s like standing too close to a mirror.
MD: There’s no room for mystique.
MS: Exactly, and that’s what I find so interesting about that song getting out, like people in Seattle wanting to hear it [Wild Animal Kingdom Records], based in Seattle, has asked to use “Fort Rage” in a compilation] because I wonder what they think about it, and how it translates in a different landscape. Because I have no idea.
MD: Well maybe the song mythologizes our landscape. Our landscape doesn’t get a lot of mythology [especially in the indie rock world].
 MS: That’s kind of what I was hoping for. I don’t know why there isn’t a more complex art and music scene in this kind of town, because it’s like purgatory, you know, and you’d think the creative people here would want to try to fix it. It’s right at our fingertips; it’s so close. That’s partially what it was about for me.
This is how I explained it to [a friend, who was thinking of moving to Seattle]. I was like, ‘why would you go to a town where all the walls are covered in really good graffiti that’s been there for years, when you can come to Fort Collins, and get a marker, and start your own graffiti on blank walls?” That’s way more exciting to me: having this blank canvas. That’s kind of what I hoped to do with the song was to let people know, “here’s my blank canvas.” I want to know what people think about it outside the context of Colorado.
MD: Someone said something like “Fort Collins is a place where good things come to die.” It’s almost like you’ve got to know that there always has been this kind of cultural lifeline here that drops and rises.
MS: Right, and I’ve seen it happen a couple times just living here my whole life. Growing up and hearing about all these crazy punk shows that were happening here and like the Drunk Tank and how it was like this Mecca of music in Fort Collins. Growing up under the legacy of the Descendents and All in your hometown is crazy, and trying to explain that to people is like, “yeah, if you get your band shirts printed, it’s going to be printed by one of the guys who knows All.” And then at the same time, it’s like, “Don’t talk about it. Yeah, they live here, but whatever. It’s just All.”
I mean, did you listen to the Descendents? Milo Goes to College is amazing! It’s this huge ghost legacy. It’s like this cultural black hole, where even these big names can come in and become faceless. It’s so strange.
MD: But at the same time, there is a hunger for adventurous music here. And people do pay attention…in certain situations.
MS: When it’s convenient. Part of the thing is, though, is it’s not convenient to work this hard on songs. So it’s kind of weird to get this audience reaction where it’s like, ‘yeah, I like it, it’s a good song to nod your head to.’ It’s this whole double entendre in the music. That’s why pop music is so dangerous. It’s deceivingly easy to fall in love with, and then you realize there is a monster underneath.
MD: Would that fact make you want to dive into noisier stuff to avoid that?
MS: I don’t know. I’m a sucker for pop music. It’s dangerous, but that’s what’s so fun about it. It’s fun to get songs stuck in people’s heads. If it gets stuck in your head, you are on the right track.
MD: But you had a serious intent with “Fort Rage.” It’s fun, and you like that it’s fun, but you are bothered by people not getting it.
MS: I don’t know, that song opened up this possibility for hypocrisy in my life. I think that is the reason it makes me so uncomfortable.
MD: It’s your biggest hit.
MS: It’s the song that I hate the most, I think. It’s so cliché, in rock and roll: the song you write that everyone loves is the song you hate, which I’m kind of trying to learn how to embrace. Hopefully it happens again. But at the same time, do I really want that to happen again?
And that song is just as much about Fort Collins, like a reminder to the people here, as it is a reminder to myself. You can be here and comfortably make music. It’s okay for you. You can be a creative person in this town and this environment, and you can get by.
MD: That’s another part of the song’s appeal. While I think some people think a lot about leaving, they also want to take a certain pride in that Fort Collins being a worthwhile place to be.
MS: Yeah. Because you have those nights where there’s like no shows going on, and there’s nothing happening. And there’s also those nights where there are crazy shows everywhere, and it’s like a house show and half your favorite bands in this town are all together and hanging out. But even in situations like that it almost just becomes too reliable.
That’s another thing about playing in Fort Collins, with the mirror being so close: everyone in your audience knows someone who knows you and it’s a small town, so it’s a weird pressure trying reach new people in a place where there aren’t really new people to reach.
MD: I think people really search for mystique in music. If they know you personally, it can take a lot of the magic away for them. Especially in this town, because we are so focused on the mystique being elsewhere.
MS: It’s impossible for a band like us to maintain a mystique in this town. All of our friends know our music and we know that if we were to have a stage mystique, it would be an act. I don’t want to do that. But, at the same time, I think that’s what would be so appealing about getting out of this town and going and playing to an audience who doesn’t know what to expect, or know who you are. You can be something completely different onstage and they don’t have an expectation of you.
Anyway, it’s a weird town. I think about this a lot.
Check out Matt Sage's blog http://firtradersunion.blogspot.com/.
Elliott Johnston is Matter Daily's Arts and Culture editor. Locally, he's been a staffer at the Rocky Mountain Chronicle and the Rocky Mountain Bullhorn. He has contributed music journalism to Arthur Magazine, 5280.com, Dallas Observer, The Pitch, Matter Journal, and more.
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