Nothing Is Permanent, Continued

MERCURY: I guess we should start at the beginning,
how did you find out that you were out of the Shins?

JESSE SANDOVAL: It was almost two and a half years ago. We played
our last Christmas festival run of shows for radio. It was in Atlanta,
and in all honesty, I definitely remember walking offstage and calling
my girlfriend and saying, “I don’t know why, but I just have a feeling
like this is it. I feel like this is probably my last Shins show.” And
it wasn’t coming from my end, I just had this feeling.

So everyone came back home and about a month and a half later James
[Mercer] sent an email. He’d mentioned that he wanted to take some time
off. He wanted to do some acting, work with other people on their
projects, and he also mentioned that he wanted to do his side project
and he didn’t know what [the time off] meant, but it was something he’d
been thinking about. Actually I think I was kind of tipped off, like
three or four months before, when I sat down with our business manager
and our manager and we were just talking about the future and how
should I approach this time off and they hinted, “Well you should plan
for at least a year and a half off.” They obviously knew something.

We took time off and in that email James said, and he’s absolutely
accurate, that we’re lucky to be able to have that opportunity to do
anything that we choose to do. Everybody can do music, someone can
write a book—he just listed the numerous things we could do. I’d
always wanted to do a food cart and my plan was to get it started and
make it its own entity before we went back on the road. Usually when we
have time off everybody scatters, does their own thing, and then every
once in a while everybody reconvenes at a barbeque, or a party, or
calls each other to go out and have a beer. This time around felt a lot
different. My girlfriend reached out and invited James and his family
to dinner. We always got the “James is real busy” answer. In all
fairness, he was busy doing other things but there was a different air
about it.

I’d caught wind from a couple of people that James was processing
moving further along with the idea of working with other people but I
never quite got the impression that it was going be an across-the-board
change. So I contacted him. I probably hadn’t really talked to him for
about a year and a half or two years before I called him out of the
blue and I think that my admittedly highly emotional phone call
expedited things. About a week after that phone call he contacted me by
text and said that basically, “I got your message, I hope you’re okay.
Let’s get together tomorrow and catch up.”

The following morning I got an email from management saying that
there’s a band meeting scheduled. I didn’t respond to that email
because, well, I needed time to process everything. Since I didn’t
respond right away, I got another email asking when would be a good
time because our manager was going to fly from LA to be part of this
band meeting. That’s when I was like, the writing’s on the wall here.
The manager’s coming from LA? I haven’t seen James in a while, but now
when I’m going to see him, it’s going to include the manager?

Then James called me and we had a very brief conversation where he
said that he was going to be working with other people. I could tell
that he was really nervous. He’s the furthest thing from a malicious
person; he’s not a prima donna. He’s just not that. If he was, if he
was the stereotypical lead singer, I think that I would have sort of
expected this. So he called me and he told me he wanted to be inspired
and he’s getting to a phase in his life, a point in his life, where he
realized he doesn’t really want to be touring anymore. This whole
process for him was probably excruciating, I mean, again, he’s not a
malicious person.

Well, if it was a matter of touring, you clearly have a business and
a family, so I assume you would have enjoyed staying in the band and
not touring?

Absolutely. There were basically two corporations, one of them was
the touring corporation where everyone was playing their parts and
everything is divided equally. James isn’t a malicious person, he
explained we’re all blue-collar workers, we’re all going on the road,
we’re all playing our parts every night, so everything should be
divided equal. Which was fair.

One of the things that I really have a hard time with is how he
categorically turned the page on me. Categorically. When I sit and
think about that and try to approach it fairly and
honestly—without emotion and being rational about it—I am
extremely disappointed and it still hurts.

Although [Mercer] was the Shins and he probably did put in the most
effort recording-wise at the early stages, I fucking loaded the van and
I did all the driving. Before we had a tour manager, our record label
contacted me. I put the legwork in. I was a blue-collar worker. I had a
vested interest in this. It seems really petty when I start to do a
laundry list of what I’m held accountable for, but in turn, I have a
laundry list as well that I want to hold someone else accountable for.
So I was really disappointed. All that invested to not make sure that I
was famous or a rock star and got a paycheck, but that it ran smoothly.
Some of the shit was shielded from James because that’s why there’s
management, that’s why there are teams around people who write songs
because the last thing they should be doing is worrying about all that
other crap.

Were you given a definitive reason for your departure?

I don’t entirely know all the reasons. We have not had dialogue.

His whole explanation in the press, it just rings, “It’s not you,
it’s me, Jesse.” [James Mercer’s quote to Pitchfork is as follows: “I
wouldn’t say I’d never work with them again. I love working with those
guys.”] Anybody who has been in a relationship knows what that means.
He has reached out a couple times by email offering to talk, but I have
not responded. I expected a bigger gesture on his part.

I just think if he was reaching the point where he felt like he
wasn’t inspired, or I wasn’t holding my end of the bargain, or he
wanted to go a different direction, I certainly hope he would have
imagined that there should have been some dialogue. Dialogue along the
way. If he said, “Hey Jesse, there are some things that I want to do on
this album that you don’t do well, rhythmically, or I want to bring
other people into the studio to record the album and after we’re done
doing it, would you be interested in learning all these parts and still
go on tour?” At least give me a chance to still be a part of something
that I am not entirely responsible for, but certainly helped create and
anchor.

I think about it and I have to own up to my own faults. I definitely
see why he was seeking outside sources. There were some drumbeats that
he tried to do, that he asked me to do, and I just couldn’t do them. I
have a slower learning curve than polished musicians. In part, he could
afford the luxury of sitting in front of his computer and do take after
take until he got it right. With recording software the way it is now,
you don’t have to play the whole part start to finish. You can
piecemeal things. Well, in the studio, I didn’t have the luxury to take
lots of time to execute drum parts, and you can’t really piecemeal
drums. So my weaknesses showed and I know that frustrated him.
Recording time is ridiculously stressful for James, I understand how
internally he started to problem solve how to make the recording
process more streamlined. Working with Danger Mouse only exacerbated
that fact.

I think part of the reason why he wanted to have the manager come
down was to support his decision. This is a divorce. I saw the writing
on the wall. So when he did call me to arrange the band meeting I asked
him, “What is it, James? What is the band meeting about?” I mean I knew
what is was going be about, and that’s when he started talking about
where he was in his life, what he wanted to accomplish, how he felt
like he wanted to be inspired, and that he’d been playing with other
people.

You could tell in his voice that it was really hard. He started to
explain his thought processes and his reasoning and, of course, I’m
shocked. Even though I knew it was going to happen, I was shocked. I
felt like I need to take the opportunity to say something to him and I
thanked him for what I learned from being in a band with him and just
to hope that we’re buddies here and we can talk about this. He sounded
relieved and was like, “Thanks, man. Thanks for understanding.” He said
he was going to call Marty and we’ll get together tomorrow and have a
beer, talk and continue to catch up.

I hung up the phone and minus dealing with that whole reality
setting in, things felt comfortable since we were going to sit and talk
about it tomorrow. And then I get a text saying that the band meeting
is cancelled, so the whole meeting we were going to have—drinking
beers, catching up—was cancelled, and that he thanked me for
being his old friend. It’s not a malicious thing, but canceling the
meeting was, I felt, well, shitty. For him to say thank you old friend,
and go that far, that’s a lot.

It’s my understanding that as bands get successful, things tend
to get a whole lot more complicated.

It definitely got more complicated. That’s the hard thing. A complex
web of relationships form when you start working with your closest
friends. We are all terrible communicators with each other. It’s hard
when your boss is one of your best friends. I’m pretty sure it’s even
harder to be the boss of your best friends.

I feel like through this whole healing, processing part of the
situation I’ve become a walking contradiction because when I talk about
it to friends, family, and close associates, I’m usually the first one
to defend James or at least try to help them understood how this came
to be. But, yet, behind closed doors, I’m upset to the point where I’m
livid, or I’m okay with it, or happy about it. That’s why I feel like
I’m a walking contradiction at many times.

I think part of the reason why I’m doing this interview is that when
talking about the food cart, music questions keep coming up and I’m not
answering those questions because the interviews are in context of what
I’m doing now. But I guess at this point I’m kind of tired of not
talking about it.

Why do you think that there wasn’t an announcement? I get hundreds
of press releases a day and band member turnover—especially an
instance as newsworthy as this one—is definitely a topic usually
addressed in press materials.

It was my understanding that there was, or two. There was an attempt
but both were on opposite sides of the spectrum; one was melancholy,
like, “Sorry, Marty and Jesse aren’t playing in the band.” Then there
was another, like, “Guys, Shins are coming to your town with a new
lineup! Let’s get excited! Let’s get pumped!” Knowing James, I think
that is not his personality to make a parade of things. He is very
considerate of how the press affects Marty and I, he’s definitely
conscious of it.

So there was an attempt at a press release. I think that the right
person to ask is James, but that’s my guess.

What do you think about Mercer telling Pitchfork that your departure
was an “aesthetic decision”? I assume I’m not the only one that thought
it was an odd comment to make.

A lot of people I’ve talked to—ex-Sub Pop people, those who
have worked with us—were equally scratching their head, and I
definitely feel it’s an odd statement. Even some fans have come up to
the cart two weeks ago and were equally trying to wrap their brain
around it. I don’t know. I can’t explain that. [Other than] my feeling
is that James really wanted to be respectful and not make it a circus.
I guess I’m still out to lunch as to how I feel about how that went
down. I guess I really don’t think about that part too much.

I know that Nuevo Mexico probably takes up most of your time, but
are there any plans for any new music endeavors?

I think so. I’ve talked to at least three other singer/songwriters
here in Portland. But the thing is about James, Marty, and I—and
even going back to Neal [Langford, former Shins member]—have
always sent around a four-track and just recorded stuff for each other.
I have about 45 minutes’ worth of songs—I think everybody’s doing
a collective, “Oh great. The drummer’s going to write an
album!”—but they’re just ideas. I’ve messed around with a couple
of other people, but while I played with those other people, it’s been
hard. Ninety-five percent of my time playing percussions has always
been with James. So I guess his style of writing has become second
nature to me and has shaped me. Playing with other people and getting
out of that comfort zone has definitely been a challenge.

Why did you agree to do this interview?

I didn’t want to comment before because I feel my business is my
business, and that’s just my personality, and everybody around me knows
that. But by doing press for the cart, having people come up to me, now
I really can feel and understand just how much of an impact this stuff
has had on so many people on so many different levels. I just wanted to
provide some people with an understanding of the situation.

I’m really digesting and really appreciating how much of an impact
this has made on people. I had my first experience where fans came up
to the cart and they asked me for an autograph. I went out and took a
picture, and I was like, why? Why would you want that? I’m not in the
band anymore. I’m not in the Shins. And for them, it was like, well, we
understand that, but, for us, you are the Shins. You were part
of this album that I’m asking you to sign. And it just really left an
impression on me.

In part, I was tired of answering everybody’s questions, I wanted my
answers to be out there so every time I do any sort of press for the
cart and what I’m doing in my life, I don’t have to repeat myself. Also
something that’s been bothering me is a lot of people have been saying,
“I’m never going to buy another Shins album again! How can James Mercer
do that?” And I have my reasons to be angry with James, but I don’t
want to be a part of any sort of movement where everybody’s against the
Shins. If you choose to not support the Shins because you don’t like
the music, that’s fine. But don’t do so because James fired me.

I appreciate everybody feeling so emotional that way, and supporting
me, but when I think about it, this was all sort of already coming to a
head. James had mentioned that he wanted to blow up this band a long
time ago—he was frustrated. And I don’t know if it was him being
creatively frustrated or where he was in his space and mindset to say
that, but when I reflect, the fact that I wasn’t a slick drummer played
a huge part in it. I did my fair share of beating myself up over
whether or not I was a good drummer—and of course I have people
on my side saying, “You’re a great drummer!”—and I know James has
people on his side, probably saying, “It’s a good decision for your
career.”

When I think about this, probably if James really had complete say
in it, he would have killed the Shins. I definitely believe
management’s like, “You know, you can’t start over, you built a name,
people recognize you—why would you want to start all over?” And
so, the only thing he had left to do was to really make a drastic
change, and I know working in Los Angeles with a bunch of studio
people, he was able to find himself in a position where he didn’t have
to do 15 takes. Even himself, he could have someone play his parts, and
that’s a romantic idea. I don’t blame him for that.

But I also understand that I unequivocally got fired, and it kind of
confuses me why he has a hard time saying that. I understand he’s
probably doing it out of respect for me reading interviews, it might be
hard for him to say it, but… I got fired. There’s no other way of
looking at it. He turned the page; he wanted to do something else, and
he’s okay with that. And everybody, me included, can judge him, but no
one’s in his head. It’s not a pattern that is new to him. Neal was into
ballooning but he didn’t choose ballooning over the Shins. He got
fired. My phone call was very parallel to Neal’s call back in the day.
The way Neal got fired was no different from the way I got fired. And
in a lot of ways, I guess that’s probably what hurts the most. I
thought I did whatever I could to not deserve that sort of ending.

So when I reflect, it always goes back to the idea of relationships,
and the Shins, that dysfunctional family we had, was a very complex set
of relationships and I think James didn’t want to deal with the
emotional attachments to those relationships. It’s pretty easy to sever
ties and start something new. From what I understand he’s hanging out
with his new band, and as much as he wants to let everybody know that
we’re on good terms and we’re still good buddies, that’s just not the
case. He made this choice for his reasons, and you have to accept it. I
can’t allow that change to reflect who I am as a musician, and reflect
on who I am as a person, because 90 percent of it is coming from his
side. He chose what he wants to do with his life, and who he wants in
his life. And that’s okay, I accept that.

Were the Shins a victim of their own success? It seems that
outsider opinions, managers, and the weight of being a successful band
really weighed heavy on the shoulders of the band. If you were just the
typical indie-pop band that sold a few thousand records, think any of
this would have happened?

I think it’s a little bit of all that. I know in my heart that James
is just not the type of person that fits the mold of a lead singer that
goes to LA with a bunch of people around him and is like, “I’m meant to
be in LA—later, dudes!” But, with that being said, I know this
about James: It goes back to when he started doing four-track stuff and
reading Tape Op. He was fascinated with recording music. So, in
some ways, it is sort of a natural consequence of success; now, in some
ways, the people he’s dealing with, he’s in over his head. He’s
learning things. He’s graduated to a different level, and how
motivating, captivating and romantic that must be. So, in some ways,
yeah, it is a consequence of our success. It has put him in a place
where he has an infinite amount of resources and talent to work with
and play with.

Now, would that have happened on an indie level? It’s hard to say. I
think the internal strife of our performance live and our performance
in the studio existed before we were highly successful. I don’t think I
really have an answer for that, because I don’t really know. But I
guess my way of thinking, or my idea about that, is maybe those issues
would have been there whether there had been a change, or a firing, or
not—it’s hard to say.

Think you could ever work with James Mercer again? Even if it’s
not as a member of the Shins, but maybe in a different project?

On my end, I guess from where I stand right now, I can’t imagine
collaborating with James—I think that he unequivocally turned the
page. There was no dialogue, there was no conversation. So for me, I
think about it as this relationship I have with him that’s a business
and a friendship; if there was a desire or a thought that our
friendship might exist in the future, there would have been some sort
of proactive dialogue along the way explaining his plans. Instead it
was the “I’ve made a decision” business relationship that took
precedent. And I definitely heard from management and friends—the
phrase I kept hearing from people who were talking to James—is
that nothing is permanent. But the way I look at it is, it’s hard for
me to look for a fence to mend. He removed the fence. I know he reached
out to me a little bit by text and email, but for me, years of a
relationship deserves a little more than an email or a text. I just
don’t know if I can fathom putting myself back in the position where,
“Is he satisfied with what I’m doing? Is he not satisfied with what I’m
doing?” Obviously I didn’t meet his needs and that’s why he removed
me.

It’s a pretty common feeling, when you’re crafting or creating
something. You put yourself out there and if it’s unsatisfactory, you
beat yourself up a little bit and you reflect. I find it difficult to
imagine putting myself in a position where I’m going to be sitting
behind the drums with James Mercer, and allow myself to feel insecure
anymore, to be completely honest. That’s not necessarily a knock on
anyone personally; it’s just a knock on a relationship. The
communication had totally deteriorated and the relationship broke
down.