60 Songs That Explain the '90s - Cake—“The Distance”

Episode Date: June 30, 2021

Rob explores Cake’s hit single “The Distance” by discussing the Sacramento band’s quirky sensibilities, the role of sarcasm in their lyricism, and their eccentric production choices. This episode was originally produced as a Music and Talk show available exclusively on Spotify. Find the full song on Spotify or wherever you get your music. Host: Rob Harvilla Guest: Sadie Dupuis Producers: Isaac Lee and Justin Sayles Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

I am going to convince you that the distance by Cake is a great song. I'm going to convince you that Cake are one of the best rock bands of the 1990s. Vibrant, ebullient, hilarious, innovative, irreverent, incendiary, inimitable, irreplaceable, cake. This is happening. Yes. Hell, yes, to this experience. Say hello to your new favorite band, and say hello to your new favorite band's favorite bizarre percussion instrument. That's the first 10 seconds of a cake song called Nugget. From 1996, the chorus of Nugget is,

Shut the Fuck Up. Great song, that whimsical rattling sound you hear is provided by a vibraslap. I didn't name it. That's what it's called. Cake love the Vibraslap. It is their signature. It is their enduring legacy.

Cake R to the Vibraslap as Bach was to the harpsichord, or as Eddie Van Halen was, to the electric guitar. A Vibor Slap is the most modern iteration of the jawbone, back when literal animal jawbones used to be percussion instruments. Conversely, the Viberslap looks like a cheese grater, welded to the gear shift to a 1974 Camaro. Quite a goofian, Dr. Sousian quality to its appearance.

The Viberslap, it's like a far-side cartoon's idea of a percussion instrument. Vampire Weekend play a Viberslap on that rad song, Harmony Hall, if you require a prestige endorsement of the Viberslap. If you require Ozzy Osbourne's endorsement, please consult the first 15 seconds of crazy train. Rock and roll producers for extra badassness, stereo pan, the vibraslap vigorously back and forth between headphone channels. My name is Rob Harvilla. This is 60 songs that explain the 90s. I assure you that the distance by cake is one of those songs.

Real quick, here's something you ought to know about me. Has this not come up yet? One of the five most significant moments of my teenage life came in. in 1991 or so, when my cool Uncle Nick played me the song Particle Man by They Might be Giants. From the Apoccal 1990 album, Flood, the beloved and immortal Brooklyn rock band, They Might Be Giants. I remember the furniture arrangement of the room I was in.

I remember Cool Uncle Nick's cool stereo. I remember cool Uncle Nick saying that this was a song he just thought I needed to hear. I remember the moment he pushed play. Hearing Particle Man for the first time changed my life. I am not joking or even slightly exaggerating. Triangle Man, Triangle Man, Triangle Man, they'll fight, triangle wins, triangle man. Cue the accordion solo. The punch sound effect near the end there is because we used the Tiny Tunes Adventures version of Particle Man.

By the way, Particle Man changed my life, not exaggerating. Particle Man rewired my teenage brain and specifically rewired my sense of what cool was. or could be, or should be, who gets to be cool? Who decides? How do you do, fellow kids? What did my fellow teenagers think was cool in 1991? Is coolness solely the province of angst and rage and furious moping and confrontation and badassness? Nirvana, nine-inch nail, sound garden, ice cube, metallic, public enemy, smashing pumpkins, etc. Or does one achieve true coolness by subverting that angst and rage and punishing volume and instead embracing exuberance and irreverence and whimsy and surrealism and unabashed goofiness and the sort of shrewd and defiant silliness often dismissed as quirky

another they might be giant song from flood called whistling in the dark may be relevant here it's the particle man guy singing again john lannel they might be giants are still going strong and john has a solo EP coming out soon where he sings four songs in Latin. Latin the dead language. I don't know why he's singing whistling in the dark in this stentorian game show announcer voice, but then again, why not? There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well, and that's be you, be what you're like, be like yourself. Dig the horns. There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told you, can do what you know how to do well. And that's be you. Be what you're like. Be like yourself.

It took me a long time. It took me until adulthood, really, to realize that I had adopted these words as my personal teenage mantra, but I did. These words, this song, this band, this vibe speaks to a very specific adolescent sensibility. This is back when the term nerd used to be a pejorative. This is a Farside Cartoon a Day calendar sensibility. This is a Weird Al Yankovic sensibility. This is a Pee-Wee-Herman sensibility. This is a Monty Python on VHS sensibility. This is a hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy sensibility.

This is a mystery science theater 3,000 sensibility. This is a mad magazine sensibility. I tell you all this to give you some idea of the content of my brain in 1994. so when I'm 16 years old and I don't even know how to do the only thing I know how to do well well yet and I'm obsessed with alternative rock radio

with all the angst and rage and moping that implies and I'm listening to alternative rock radio late at night and I'm alone obviously and then this song happens well your CD collection looks shiny and costly

how much did you pay for your bad modo goosy The song Rock and Roll Lifestyle happens. The cake song, rock and roll lifestyle. A Moto Goosey is a hipster-type Italian motorcycle. I'll tell you a secret. Until today, until just now, I somehow misheard that line as bad motor oozy. And I assumed that bad motor oozy must be a super cool alternative rock band that I wasn't cool enough even to have heard of.

True story. Dig the shaker on this song. Crucial element, the shaker, from the beginning, cakes' use of percussion. All types of ostensibly whimsical percussion is nothing short of miraculous. And how much did you spend on your black leather jacket? Is it you or your parents in this income tax bracket? That's rock and roll lifestyle as in how do you afford your rock and roll lifestyle.

The class warfare aspect of this song went over my head somewhat as a 16-year-old. I'll tell you what didn't go. over my head, the sneaky radness of the lead guitar player and the explicit drollness of the lead singer. How do you afford your rock and roll

lifestyle? Cake formed in Sacramento, California in the early 90s. Four quick facts about Sacramento. Sacramento, the Cincinnati of California. Sacramento, inspiration and setting for Greta Gerwig's Oscar-nominated 2017

film Lady Bird. Sacramento, home to 20,000 Del Taco locations, I'm estimating. And finally, Sacramento, the Baffling Kings, took Bagley over Luca. We're caught up on Sacramento. Of the founding members of Cake, the two guys still around are singer-gatrist John McCray and trumpeter Vincent DeFiorre. A lot of turnover in this band. We'll hit the highlights. I understand that there's an actor named John McCray in the Cruella movie from 2021,

the Emma Stone Cruel-Deville origin story. movie, this is a different guy. Just to clarify, so John McCrae's voice at first contact has the sarcastic, wise-ass, irreverent, gloriously punchable tone that is like a cruise ship-sized dog whistle for too smart for their own good teenagers with a they might be giants slash weird owl slash pee-wee slash mad magazine mentality. Wherever this guy is right now, you just know he's alone too. This ain't rebellion. You're drinking what they're selling. Instantly, this is one of your guys.

You can picture this guy. You can picture this guy's beard. You can visualize as though it is a physical planet, the heroic contempt of this guy and the contempt he heroically inspires in particularly uninspired others. And he, in turn, without an ounce of contempt whatsoever, makes you feel seen. Excess ain't Rebellion is a remarkably profound idea to convey to a clueless 16-year-old in a wacky but also alarmingly angry pop song. Is that true that excess ain't rebellion?

And if we consider all the excess, all the chaos, all the self-destruction of early 90s alt-rock radio, what is rebellion in an era where everyone else seems to think that excess is rebellion? Is true rebellion restraint? minimalism? Or is it in excess of a subtler and wittier short? Is True Rebellion a lead singer who doesn't sing so much as sardonically declaim? Who gets to decide what's sardonic or wacky, for that matter? Is True Rebellion presenting to the world as an alternative rock band but flirting relentlessly with country music and mariachi music and Middle Eastern music and like opera? Is True Rebellion a trumpet solo or a pedal steel solo or a Baker's Field style? honky-tonk guitar solo. Is True Rebellion a vibrous lap? Is True Rebellion writing songs that make teenagers laugh out loud even when there's no explicit joke per se? I'm a teenager. I'm driving around with my best friend Mike. We're listening to the first cake album called Motorcade of Generosity from 1994. It's got rock and roll lifestyle on it. We're listening to this album in full for what I'm

pretty sure is the first time for either of us, if only because I will never forget Mike, laughing out loud as we turned on a 71 north, midway through the first song, which is called Comanche, when all the drunk-sounding horns hit. There's just something so captivating about the audacity, the absurdity, the joyful communal insolence of this band, starting with track one on album one. Mike laughed at laterways two more times our first time through Motorcade of Generosity, once during a song called Up So Close. Pretty sure this drive happened in Mike's car, an excessively beige Oldsmobile.

Sound system was okay, though. I think he almost blew it out once playing radio heads let down too loud for his girlfriend at the time, but that was later. Mike laughed that loud at way down south. Teenagers, same deal with this line from a peppy little tune called Pentagram.

Great guitar solo on Pentagram, worthy of Buck Owens, worthy of Don Rich. Is that sacrilege? Who decides, What's sacrilege? Dancing and chanting a sacrificial ride. Art dry with the ashes from dead babies. Teenagers.

If this all sounds a little in-jokey to you, okay, okay, I get it. Motorcade of generosity also has a song called Jolene. Not Dolly's Jolene, Cakes Jolene. Cakes Jolene, though, is a song that respects the majesty of Dolly's Jolene. You can just tell. Also, Cakes Jolene is one. one of the purest and hokeyest and most joyful guitar songs of my lifetime, or for that matter of Dolly's lifetime.

When John McCrae asks for guitar, John McCra gets guitar, the last two minutes or so of the cake song, Jolie, consists of John receiving the guitar he requested. Is he yelling, get down ironically, there? Who gets to decide what's ironic? Who gets to decide if calling someone. something quirky is bad. Who gets to decide if being funny, lyrically or sonically funny, makes you unsurious, which makes you un-rebellious, which makes you uncool? Another question for you,

why did I pay $20 for Cakes Motorcade of Generosity on CD in the first place? How did I afford my rock-and-roll lifestyle? That's like five hours of bagging groceries with Mike. Pretty sure I only heard rock and roll lifestyle on the radio that one time. I'm quite positive I never saw the video for rock and roll lifestyle on MTV. I just watched that video for the first time right now on YouTube, and I'm pretty sure they spent less on that video than I spent on my CD copy of Motorcade of generosity. That video costs like $12, and most of that they spent on fruit. I'm also quite positive. I never heard any other song from this album on the radio or on MTV ever. So why did a Dippy Midwestern and teenagers such as myself take a chance on the minimalist debut album from this subversive little

country rock band from Sacramento. Oh right, here's why. Reluctantly crouched at the starting line, engines pumping and thumping in time, the green light flashes, the flags go up, churning and burning they yearn for the cup. The distance is the lead single on Cake's second album, Fashion Nuggets, released in 1996. eventually went platinum but is not Cake's highest charting album. Cake had a number one album in 2011 with a record called Showroom of Compassion, which set a record

for the lowest sales for a number one record, 2011 not being a boom time for the music industry. Let's say, anyway, the distance felt ubiquitous at the time for kids of a certain sensibility, but it is not Cake's highest charting song. Didn't even make the Hot 100, but forget all that. The distance

is Cake's biggest song by far. Their calling card, their battering ram, and perhaps their albatross. Not really. Who gets to decide when a hit song becomes an albatross? Hit song according to whom, for that matter. Forget all that. Focus instead on John McCrae doing the thing he knows how to do very well indeed. And the thing he knows how to do well, just to be as direct as possible about this. John McCrae knows how to be a self-aware, medium-funky white guy during a golden era for self-aware medium-funky

white guys. Not a whole golden era maybe, but okay, it's certainly a golden hour. Killer bass line as well. So, 1999, some weird shit happening genre-wise in 1996. A lot of rap

adjacent alt-rock dudes with Mad Magazine's sensibilities in 1996. You got O'Dalay by Beck. Beck having survived one of the biggest albatross hit singles of the decade with Loser back in 94 and now critics love O'Daleigh and as Beck albums go I'm a midnight vultures guy at heart but yeah I get why critics loved O'Dolee especially hot wax on which Beck sounds substantially funkier than medium funky. Saw the songs of the plant bartenders. Western unions of the country westerns

Silver Fox who's looking for romance And the chain smoke Kansas flash dance ass pants 1996 you got Bradley Noel from Sublime You got Sublime's massive self-titled album in 1996 The year Bradley Noel both became a huge rock star And died of a heroin overdose. In the 90s, I'm sorry to say, becoming a huge rock star was often inextricable

from dying of a heroin overdose. Some wild shit happening on that Sublime record. Caress Me Down is on that sublime record. May Gusta La Reggae, may gustav punk rock. Holy shit. I didn't know she had that G.I. Joe Kung Fu grip. Also, to this day, I try to take some time every month or so

just to meditate on the sublime song about the L.A. riots. Talk about great moments and misguided allieship. Some wild shit happening in 1996. You got soul coughing happening in 1996. They're from New York City. They're jazzy. And you get to decide whether Jazzy requires scare quotes. And if so, how large a font to use for these scare quotes around Jazzy.

But Soul Coughing put out their second album, Irresistible Bliss in 1996. And Super Bon Bon Bon is another hit single that didn't really charred. It still felt like a hit single to certain people. And anyway, this is what Soul Coughing frontman, Mike Doty, knows how to do well. Okay, that's a lot. I dig Sulkoff in quite a bit. The People's Republic of Lake Edna, but that's a lot. Some people hated this shit, all this shit.

And I get that. I do. These are all strong spices. Paradoxically, medium funky white guys might be the strongest spice of them all. Hot like wasabi when I bust rhymes and so forth. All of which to say one tended to have a strong reaction, positive or negative, to the video for the distance by cake, because that video was on MTV a lot. A strong reaction just to the visuals as well.

The video for the distance is a corporate office drone satire sort of deal, and the dudes in cake are all wearing suits and looking both very dapper and very amused by their own dapperness. You got a trumpeter involved. If you were watching this video with the soundoff, you might mistake cake for a neo swing band, like the Cherry Poppandadies or something. Speaking of wild shit happening in 1996,

But these dudes were a little craftier. Cake had the same lineup for both Motorcade of generosity and fashion nugget. Of course, John McCray on lead vocals and mostly acoustic guitar. Vincent D. Fiore on trumpets and keyboards. But then Todd Roper on drums. Victor Damiani on bass, fantastic bass player, killer bass lines, flee for nerds. That's glib, but that's real.

This is hypothetical, of course. But if you played bass in various angsty, alternative rock garage bands in college, during this era, I did, sorry. But you wanted to be like a cool and flashy bass player. You wanted to be like Bootsie Collins wearing flannel or something, radio head with slap bass somehow. That's not going to work out well for you, incidentally.

But anyway, Victor is your guy. You know who else is your guy, Greg Brown? Cakes First League guitarist, electric guitarist. John McCray wrote the vast majority of Cakes early and later songs, but Greg wrote the distance, notably. And sometimes Greg would uncork these wild and, Dexterous and Rad solos that were half punk rock and half grand ol'opry. And sometimes he'd uncork these perfect, simple, James Bond-style surf riffs

that even shitty amateur guitar players could at least attempt to play, albeit shittily. The distance had one of those. So this is the song that single-handedly created a cake sensibility, a savvier and saltier sort of rock and roll lifestyle. And acquired taste, absolutely. If you do not like the distance, let's see if I can guess the one line on the distance that you do not like the most.

Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse. Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse. Yeah, that's a lot. Cake lyrics can be a lot. A Rhodes Scholar who is also a fifth grader. That's the John McCray vibe. Very doogie-houser, M.D., Not really. Nonetheless, Fashion Nugget has healthy breasts that bounce on his Italian leather sofa.

Fashion Nugget has large, fuzzy dice that still hang proudly like testicles in rearview mirrors. I am forcing myself to recite these lyrics as a form of cultural penance, I suppose. Fashion Nugget naturally has the song Nugget, the song with the chorus of Shut the Fuck Up. Did you want to hear that? Of course you do. But right here, this song, maybe you hear that chorus and you flee in terror, and that's your right. But if you buy in, if you embrace the pruriance and profundity of the cake experience, the lines right before that chorus on Nugget, I think are worth celebrating.

Heads of skate who ride and wrangle, who look at your face from all at one angle can cut you from the bloated budgets like sharpening knives to chicken make nuggets. If you buy into this band, if you immerse yourself in the cake sensibility, you can convince yourself that cut you from their bloated budgets like sharpened knives through chicken mcnuggets is every bit as poetic and incisive and anti-corporate speaking truth to power type statement as, I don't know, wearing a t-shirt that says corporate magazines still suck on the cover of Rolling Stone. Same vibe. Same team. But you have to take cake just a little seriously. Not too seriously, my you like 30% seriously for that to work. You have to believe that cake believe in what they're saying and what they're doing. Fashion Nugget also has arguably the band's second biggest hit, a straight cover of Gloria Gaynor's disco monolith, I Will Survive. And in 1996, it was quite challenging to fix this cover song on the irony versus sincerity axis, not to mention the mean-spirited versus respectful axis. In retrospect, Keke's cover of I Will Survive was quite sincere, quite respectful. But I don't think the band minded much in 1996 if they left you a little confused.

This song is also your reminder, should you require one that John McCray, for all his Frank Sinatra references, for all cakes, covers of Willie Nelson and Buck Owens and bread. John is not a crooner, not a golden voice. His intellectual register is broader than his vocal register. That's not saying much necessarily, but it says enough. It is enough to sustain a long and consistent. career beyond this moment. Cake's next album came out in 1998, new bassist, a few new guitarists. It's called Prolonging the Magic. There's that sardonic wit again.

Lead single, Never There is the only cake song to ever chart on the Hot 100 at number 78. Doesn't matter. Here's the climax to a song called Sheep Go to Heaven. Consider the Magic prolonged. But again, come for the schoolyard taunts. But stay for a brief outburst of music criticism more evocative entrenched than much of the angry music criticism, Cake inspired and withstood. I don't want to go to sunset strip. I don't want to feel the emptiness.

Bold marquees with stupid band names. I don't want to go to sunset strip. Cake's next album came out in 2001. It was called Comfort Eagle. If you know only three cake songs, short skirt, long jacket is the third. The video for short skirt long jacket consists of street interviews with random people wearing headphones and hearing short skirt long jacket for the first time and giving their real-time opinions.

It's the only good music video of the first decade of the 2000s. Don't look up other candidates for that. Just trust me. Wherever he is and whoever he's with, I hope this guy is doing well. I know I just paid $18,000 before, but she was a little more like this broad and the song. I think I might have stayed with her. Has this not come up yet? My mom really likes cake.

My brother got married last week, and they were struggling to come up with a song for the groom and his mother to dance to, and they tried to find an appropriate cake song. There is not an appropriate cake song for that specific purpose. Incidentally, anyway, mom told me once that she especially likes the Vibrislapp on cake songs,

and so one year I bought her a Vibraslap for Mother's Day. Let me once again remind you that a Vibor Slap is an eccentric-looking, percussion instrument. She was appreciative. Finally, I have met, or really almost met, John McCray on two occasions, both in the mid-2000s in San Francisco in San Francisco office outside the Fillmore, the famous San Francisco nightclub, the Fillmore. And that night, Love, the famed 60s rock band Love. We're celebrating the 35th anniversary of their album Forever Changes. And John McCray was in line ahead of me to get his tickets to see Love. Now as he's dropping, And the ticket lady says to John, I'm sorry, we don't have VIP tickets for you, just regular tickets. And John went, that's okay. I don't have to be a VIP. And he was very gracious about it in a very droll and self-aware and pleasantly performative way that I quite appreciated. I actually don't remember if I said anything to him in this moment or if I was too scared to. But either way, the connection between love the band and cake the band makes a ton of sense to me, sonically, now that I think about it for 15 seconds.

Second time I met both John and Vince DeFiore, the trumpet player, and an alternative rock station in San Francisco. I don't know if I shook their hands or just fan-boid out from across the room, as one does. I do remember saying, out loud to the two longest tenured members of cake, words to the effect of, oh, man, I love cake, one of the most underrated bands of the 90s. And I watched both their faces fall, or really just cloud over. with justifiable contempt for me. And I am forcing myself to recount this to you now as a form of penance.

Don't ever meet your idols, kids, lest you say something really fucking stupid. It was mad, awkward, and cringy in a way that I like to think, at least honors the cake sensibility. If I'd been suave and confidence and known exactly what to say to cake, and if I'd actually said the right thing to say to cake in that moment, well, I wouldn't have been like myself. Now would I have? Our guest today, we're thrilled to welcome Sadie DePuy of the great band, Speedy Ortiz and Sad 13. Her latest album is Sad 13 is called Haunted Painting.

I enjoy her dog's Twitter account very much. Shout out to Lavender the dog. Thank you so much, Sadie, for being here today. Hi, Rob. Lavender's sitting in the corner. She did some cake listening with me this morning. What does Lavender think? What do you? What do you think, Lavender thinks? I think cake is dog-friendly music in general. They've got a lot of those little corg-high, West Coasty synths.

I think that's a frequency dogs enjoy. It's another win column for cake there, I guess, yes. So in 2020, StereoGum, the rad website, StereoGum got a bunch of rock stars to contribute cover songs to a giant fundraising compilation called Save StereoGum. And Sadie, you covered cake. You covered the cake song. I sure did.

commissioning a symphony and see. So my question is, did you choose a cake song specifically to convince any skeptical stereo gum readers that cake are a great band? I'm very consistent in my taste, and I have thought cake was good since I first picked up some cake CDs around 2001. So I continue to listen to cake. It's a frequent tour listen for any band lineup I've been involved in. I think Cake are excellent arrangers, players, producers.

I like that they've got a recording studio that runs on solar energy. So I'm ready for Cake to have their renaissance, and I will be right there front in line whenever everyone else gets on board. Was there a specific song or album or moment that first got you into them? I think I heard Frank Sinatra on The Sopranos, And I remember my mom getting the CD soundtrack, which that song was on. So I'm pretty sure that was my initial introduction to cake. But I think I got their first three albums all around the same time,

and then was a fan already by the time Comfort Eagle came out. Our producer, Justin, is a huge Sopranos guy, and I'm very embarrassed that I'd forgotten about Frank Sinatra appearing in the Sopranos. I had forgotten that completely. watching it now for the first time since it aired, and I was a child when it aired. I can't believe my parents allowed me to watch with them. But when Frank Sinatra came on, I was like, fuck yes, it's cake time. What is occurring? Do you remember what's happening in the show when Frank Sinatra, like what moment it is soundtracking? If you don't, don't worry about it. No, because I've been

too fast. I can't remember. I mean, we could look it up and talk through it, but that's the way to do it. I was a teenager, you know, an alternative rock hit in the mid-90s. I think you were little younger. Like, how did 90s alternative rock strike you in general? You know, Nirvana, the aftermath, the Nirvana, the bands that endured, the bands that were more one-hit wonders. Like, what struck you about this time

either in a good way or a bad way? I think my parents were both pretty into college radio, so I don't know how aware I was of radio rock until I was a little bit older, but I do know

that I got my cake CDs and my Weezer CDs all around the same time. I would not have known there was any difference in like critical reception of either of these bands until a bit later. Maybe it was like

cake. Letters to Cleo is my other soundtrack staple band and Weezer. That's a great triple threat right there. You mentioned it's like a tour thing. Have you encountered a lot of musicians who really like cake?

Is it a secret handshake of sorts or is it out in the open? I know that Nick Reinhart from Taramellos is really into the first couple cake things, specifically because of Greg Brown, who's the guitarist who wrote the distance. And I can't believe, well, we'll get into it, I'm sure. I feel like the distance is what split up that lineup of cake,

but I'm sure we'll talk about it further. Yeah, I know he's a big Greg Brown fan and into Death Ray. I think Mike Kroll, same deal, a big Death Ray fan, and that's how I found out he also... Actually, when I met Mike Kroll at a wedding, we talked about cake the entire time, and I was like, I approve of you.

Wow, that's a great wedding table conversation. Absolutely. I was going to ask, is there an argument that the distance hurt cake somewhat overall? Like having a fluke hit like that might turn off some people who might have been fans otherwise, like Beck with a loser. or something. Is there a downside?

Is there backlash against loser? I don't know if there's backlash, but I think there was concern early on that he wasn't going to recover from it. Like, that's such a prominent and weird and sort of goofy song that I think there was a lot of question at the time of, like, would he do something that good

or that prominent again or would it sing? And then O'Dillay came out and he was fine. But it's the same thing was sort of radiohead and creep. Like, there was an initial concern that they would be so attached to this one song that was very distinct.

and you either loved it or you hated it. That would be hard to sustain a career from that point forward. I think the difference here, creep is an outlier to the rest of Radiohead's discography. Sort of the same deal with Beck. He went all over the place. Cake is very much cake from start to finish. And they incorporate a lot into their arrangements. It's not like it's just one genre they're ever calling from.

There's a lot of stuff going into each song. But that's kind of their trademarked recipe. And I was surprised to know that the distance was the only Greg Brown song on Fashion Nugget because it sounds so, it sounds so cake. So I want to hear your theory that the distance broke up cake because that lineup did break up after Fashion Nugget. And you're saying this is directly because of the success of the distance. So this song was huge. Greg Brown wrote it. and I found a Rolling Stone interview from just after it got huge

where he's asked if the success of the distance means he'll be contributing more songs because that was the only one that's credited to him at least fully on this record and he's like so excited he really hopes so he's so happy that John was receptive to it John's always written the songs it's the only one I got to do in the Wikipedia it talks about how John like wouldn't allow Greg to arrange it a certain way that he had written it. And then just before tracking the next album, he doesn't ever specify why he left cake,

but that's when he starts Death Ray with Victor who plays bass on this song. So my feeling is the huge hit is written by Greg, but perhaps he was not getting songs accepted for the next record and decided he'd rather take them to his own project. Right. I remember reading that Greg wanted the guitar riff in the chorus to play

like through the entire song. And John was like, no, we got to space it out. And so John did the arranging. And I don't know if Greg chafed at that a little bit. I don't know if there's bitterness, but if your song is the huge song, but it's the only song you got on that record, I wonder if that could introduce a weird dynamic that leads you to want a little more control over how your songs are arranged.

Absolutely. That's my theory. The distance created some distance. there we go it's it's sort of like kim deal and the pixies a little bit like gigantic is to the pixies as the distance is to cake well there we go that's that's a fantastic theory we've we've cracked it and i think you should do this whole episode and i should just not talk about this song over again what i love about cake are all the details in their songs like listening to commissioning a symphony and see like the shakers and the vibraslap and the keyboard is just the arrangement like this band always feels like a fleshed out universe to me and like you're just like you're a There's always some vibrerslap, there's always some yeah, but there's a lot of little synth details, quick guitar parts. Yeah, tons of cool production layers. Absolutely, because you're a songwriter, but also an arranger and a producer. Like how much work and thought and care goes into creating a universe, like a consistent universe like this?

I think it's a ton. I mean, when I covered that song for the Stereoogram Comp, I was so excited to just do it extremely faithfully. Like, I don't know on a vibrer slap. It was the middle of the pandemic. I wasn't going to go track one down, but I made sure I got some Viberslap samples in there. It blew my mind to learn that cake produces their own music, starting from the beginning.

There's a very clear attention to detail. And I think because some of their songs are quite goofy, I mean, there's some really silly lyrics on this one. And I'll, full disclosure, this is not one of my favorite cake songs. And even this album, I had like a real renaissance with last year. I wasn't one of my favorites, and now I think it's great, like every cake album. There's goofiness, but there's a lot of smarts going into it and intention. So it's one of the goofier bands I like, but they pull it off well.

What is your favorite album or favorite song or era? I think prolonging the magic is probably my favorite, and that's probably the first one I really, I guess I remember seeing the Never There music video on like much music or whatever it was I was watching at that time. But they're all pretty good. Commissioning a Symphony and C is from Cake's fourth album, Comfort Eagle from 2001, which is the album with short skirt long jacket on it, which is sort of, if you know two cake songs,

it's probably that in the distance. It was a bigger hit nominally. Like, what drew you to Symphony instead as the song to cover? I just like it. I like the arrangement. There's a very fun, guitar solo. I just thought it'd be fun. I mean, I've tried to do cake at karaoke, some of the more talk-singy ones. It's hard to pull off. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I can play the little

weird key change guitar solo, and I can layer the synths. The talk singing is hard to replicate. That's a very specific blood alcohol level, I think, in which that becomes attainable. Yeah, I don't think I've even tried, but I don't think I could pull it off either. So yeah, You're not alone there. It's like one of those karaoke things you think it's going to be so great when you do it. And then five minutes later, you're like, why did I pick this one cake song? Yeah, cowering in the bathroom for the rest of the night. Everyone's like talking and, you know, going out to the bar to get another drink.

And here I am still doing, I have three minutes left of the distance. Comfort Eagle in particular, it feels like there's a ton of songs about being an artist or trying to be an artist. There's Symphony and C, there's opera singer, there's shadow stabbing. Like, did Cake teach you anything about songwriting or about how being a songwriter feels? I think I picked up on some of the political messaging of Cake when I was like a 12-year-old listening to this. So certainly being able to pull some of these concepts about labor and the environment, also in a deadpan way, and also the music sounds fun. It doesn't have to be, I think before my experience with politics entering music was more traditional punk, which I wouldn't say I grew up on.

I just had an awareness of from being a child with parents who liked music. And I think it's so funny that Fashion Nugget is so car-y. It's so about transport used as an extension for all these other metaphors about labor and the environment. I think, to some degree. Yeah. There's a cake song on that album called Darya, which I think preceded the MTV show Darya, but then the show used several cake songs.

But regardless, I was wondering if Darya, the show had any particular influence on you as an artist or just as a person. Yeah, one of my favorite TV shows. I'm very into the Too Smart for High School trope. I think a lot of my favorite TV shows fall under that category. like Darya and Veronica Mars are two of my big heavy hitters. Cake are a quintessential too smart for high school,

or you think you're too smart for high school band, at least. Yeah, Veronica Mars went the air route, and Darya went the cake route. I'm loving them both. Yeah. In 2020, you also curated an Adam Schlesinger tribute compilation. Adam, of course, was in the Fountain to Wayne and died in 2020, and he was one of the best songwriters of his generation, I think.

I was on a road trip recently and jumped straight from cake to Fountains of Wayne, and I was trying to figure out how big a jump that was stylistically, or if it's really much of a jump at all? Like, is there a through line there for you? I think the things I like about both bands are similar. There's a sense of humor and a dedication to storytelling and sometimes bringing in metaphors that aren't quite obvious, but are just fun to write a song around.

I think Adam was a pretty genius arranger, and obviously pulled from a ton of styles. Maybe he did a little bit more of the songs word pastiche about different genres and cake just kind of mixes it all in. But yeah, I think that there's an extension there that makes sense. Yeah, his songs could also be incredibly witty

or just outright incredibly funny. Like, is there a stigma generally in indie rock or just rock in general against bands that are funny or goofy or lighthearted in any way? Like, why is that? Is there a stigma against, funny bands. I mean, look at the success of Weezer.

They went like full out silly. No, I think it's hard to pull off. I have a hard time with a lot of musical comedy, but if there's a really well-done song and it's well-produced and the hooks are good, and like, what is the Fountains of Wayne song? Like a hat with feet? It's about like a guy getting flattened by something, like a bomb falls on him, and he's just a hat.

and feet walking around underneath? Like, what a silly concept to write a song, but it's so catchy and so well done. So, yeah, there's a way to do it that doesn't turn me off. And I might be more of a stickler for comedy aversion than another music fans. So cake must be really great is what I'm trying to tell listeners out there. Absolutely. I had always assumed that hat with feet was a metaphor for something,

but now maybe it's just a hat with feet. Maybe it's no more complicated. it. Don't overthink it. It could be, but it's so goofy and so fun. Right. And I like that both Fountains of Wayne and Cake are not afraid to be a little goofy even when they do have a much bigger point. Yeah. I know a lot of people who hate cake and a lot of people who love cake. Have you ever encountered somebody who just could not stand them and wanted to argue with you about them at a wedding or so? Not at the wedding. I only make cake allies at weddings. Yeah. I think, feel like the cake haters have only heard the singles and like just need to go a little deeper.

It's some of the best sounding, even if you take out, I never know how to pronounce his last name, John McCrea? I think so, yeah. Let's, we'll go with that for now. John, please forgive me. God, he signed, there's a couple of like organizing things I've done that he has signed on to, and my fan meter goes through the roof when I get his signature. Have you ever talked to him?

I've talked to their management to verify his signatures on things. And chills. I feel like they don't, even if you take out his voice, which maybe is a barrier for some people, the deadpan humorous, the lyrics are,

there's some really funny ones in this, although I don't think he wrote it. Some of the best guitar playing, some of the best bass playing, some of the best drumming, just as players, they're like top of anyone's game. So I have made

friends relisten and sent specific songs. And I feel like I've converted some cake phobes into understanding what I like so much about it. You're doing God's work. I'm trying. My last episode was about pavement. It was about gold sounds. And I believe you were once in a pavement cover band called Babement. Do I have that right? It's true. We did two shows, though. It's like... That counts. Less of a thing than has been advertised. You've tweeted about maybe starting a cake tribute band. Is there any friction between being a pavement fan and a cake fan? Those are two bands with very different critical reputations, I guess.

But is there more similarity there than we think? I don't think there should be friction. And I think that cake at its best, well, a lot of people's favorite things about pavement are not the parts of pavement that I like the most. Like I love Terror Twilight. There's some silly songs on there. It's really well-produced. Carrot rope.

Yeah, it's a very cake-esque song. Some tox sing. So there's the Venn diagram of cake and pavement, especially later pavement. Feels pretty cozy to me, and I'm happy to sit there. How about you? Do you...

Yeah, I mean, I had never thought to connect them, but carrot rope, now that I'm saying it out loud, is more of a cake song, almost than a pavement song, or at least the Venniagrams. get a lot closer together. Like the goofiness of pavement I've always been really drawn to. In the same way that I'm drawn to like,

they might be giants or something like that. Yeah. I'm sort of interested in why pavement get to be like serious, you know, voice of a generation type artists, whereas cake are sort of marginalized. It's just they're funny and goofy. If you're into that sort of thing,

but they're not profound. Whereas, like you say, like John is very politically active. And I'd forgotten the thing about the studio, you know, the solar-powered studio and everything. Like, cake are a serious band, like, in their way. They take their goofiness very seriously.

There's the Sacramento crossover, too. I didn't even think about this. Right, right, right. Stockton and Sacramento, right. And the thing, I mean, what was the big fluke where Pavement's big hit is harness your hopes now? Yeah, because of some sort of algorithm. Right. That could very well be a cake song.

So I'm going to say, if you got into pavement from TikTok or whatever, whatever happened, check out cake check out album tracks by cake oh god I just aged five years just now that's very disturbing I think one of the things

also pavement has some for all of the not throwaway but sort of associational one-liners there's some really like beautiful ballads that pavement does and beautiful love songs

I don't know if cake touches that too much or when it is it's a metaphor for something bigger it's about like in the case of symphony and C it's about like

arts patronage and how fuck that can be. So maybe that's the disconnect. People like a love song. Cake don't have a gold sounds, I guess, is the conclusion we've come to. No, not quite. Yeah. Never too late. Never too late, exactly.

This has been wonderful. Thank you so much for being here, Sadie. Thanks, Rob. Thanks very much to our guest this week, Sadie DePuy. Thanks, as always, to our producers, Isaac Lee and Justin Sales. And thanks very much to you for listening. And now, without further ado, here are Cake with the Distance. We'll see you next week.