Poetic Justice: Enablers Make Spoken-Word Rock Music That Actually Doesn't Suck

"The spoken word is weak," grumbled the inimitably cranky Steve Albini, reciting his intro to the classic 1986 compilation LP Sub Pop 100. If only Enablers had been around back then to prove him wrong. The band's frontman, Pete Simonelli, has accomplished that rarest of feats: enhancing slow-burning, noir-ish rock with unapologetic poetry that actually flatters rather than overshadows the songs. In no way are his verses indebted to the hackneyed excesses of Jim Morrison, the well-trodden romanticism of Patti Smith, or the ironic sniveling of that prick from King Missile. Free of flowery drama and egotistical bluster, his robust syllables tumble forth in low, matter-of-fact tones and measured cadences that evoke the tense narration of a 1950s police procedural broken by fits of stentorian passion. As for comparable literary singers, think Lungfish's Daniel Higgs or Saccharine Trust's Jack Brewer, but infinitely drier and subtler.

Enablers' snaking guitar telepathy is equally distinctive. Having individually done time with such American underground bigwigs as Swans, Toiling Midgets, Nice Strong Arm, and Timco during the 80s and 90s, Joe Goldring and Kevin Thomson refined an intuitive vocabulary of filigreed arpeggios, needling leads, and grand crescendos that roil like the vast Pacific. In 2002, after roughly a decade of playing together in the obscure Bay Area combos Morning Champ and Touched by a Janitor, the pair finally found a vocalist who knew precisely when to shut up and let the instruments run wild. And so, Enablers were born.

Issued on CD by Exile on Mainstream, on vinyl via Lancashire and Somerset, and digitally courtesy of Atypeek Music, the group's superb fifth album, The Rightful Pivot, debuts new drummer Sam Ospovat. His improvisational arsenal of rolls, taps, and flutters allows for spontaneity without sacrificing impact. In contrast to its predecessor, 2011's burly Blown Realms and Stalled Explosions, the current release feels looser but more intimate.

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Live performances, however, remain dependably ferocious. At NYC's Mercury Lounge earlier this year, Simonelli grimaced demonically, his features tinted red by stage lights and exertion. Resembling an irate Henry Fonda in The Grapes of Wrath, he screamed directly into the faces of random audience members and leapt about, satyr-style, as if his bones were made of rubber. That weekend, Enablers embarked on their umpteenth European tour, from which they sent the following dispatch between sips of Iberian beer, wine, and cider.

Noisey: Most music based on spoken-word poetry is fucking terrible. Why are Enablers not fucking terrible?
Joe Goldring: We never thought of it as spoken word.

Kevin Thomson: When the band was initially hatched, we knew better than to just set the words to music or vice versa.

Sam Ospovat: Because Pete is another instrument.

You guys threatened to become a little beefier and more rocking on your last album…
Kevin Thomson: We never threatened to do anything.

OK, but the new record is more introspective and elastic. What brought about this change?
Pete Simonelli: I'm spending more time on the poems than ever before, allowing for more space in the music.

Sam Ospovat: I feel like this band has range in its writing and wouldn't spend the whole day doing the same thing.

The songs are fluid and less rigid. Why?
Joe Goldring: We worked much faster in the studio this time, with less rehearsal prior to going in. And Sam influences the approach, which allows some freedom.

How so?
Sam Ospovat: I'm not playing drum parts; I'm playing the forms that Kevin and Joe write.
Kevin Thomson: We can be loose, with a sense of abandon.

Sam, you hit some percussion on a Tune-Yards album. How did that happen? Seems totally incongruous with Enablers.
Sam Ospovat: I'm friends with [Tune-Yards'] Merrill [Garbus] and Nate [Brenner] and it's not incongruous because both groups play music that's rhythmically interesting.

Where did you guys find Sam?
Kevin Thomson: I was frequenting a club called Bar Three Fifty-Five [in Oakland], where Sam had a monthly improv session happening. I asked a few players what they thought about Sam joining up and all I heard back was "get him." So we did.

How do you maintain being a band with two of you living in the Bay Area and two of you living in Brooklyn?
Joe Goldring: Jojo buy plane ticket.

Still, practice must be a bitch.
Kevin Thomson: The real bitch is getting Goldring to come over to Oakland from SF for writing sessions. The bicoastal bit is a breeze.

You almost never play gigs in the U.S. and you're way more popular in Europe. Why?
Joe Goldring: America has lost the plot.
Kevin Thomson: It's more about a level of appreciation that we felt from the very beginning from European audiences.

It's interesting that audiences favor you abroad because a lot of Europeans can't grasp the nuances of your English-language lyrics.
Pete Simonelli: Even if you're an English speaker, you're only getting fragments of the compositions. The voice is an equal instrument in the band, contributing to the atmosphere of each song.
Joe Goldring: Google Translate.

You still don't employ a bass player. How come?
Kevin Thomson: We don't quote, unquote employ anybody.
Joe Goldring: Bass amp's too heavy.
Kevin Thomson: We like keeping it untethered.

Joe, what was it like playing with Swans back in 1995?
Joe Goldring: Loud, fun, and malevolent. Exactly what I thought playing in Swans would be.

Pete, you work as an audiobook narrator. Anyone ever recognize your voice in Enablers from your day job?
Pete Simonelli: There is no way that is gonna happen. But I do really like the job. It's fun, rewarding, and it's something I've wanted to do for a long time.

The new album contains a rather harsh song called "West Virginia." What's the significance?
Pete Simonelli: It's one of the first poems written while listening to the music being worked out. So in that sense, the words are lyrics more than a separately written poem. I was doing some long-haul trucking in 2012 and West Virginia was the nadir of that trip.

The protagonist in the song "Went Right" takes a wrong turn out of an East Village bar and narrowly avoids getting his ass beaten by a bunch of toughs wielding bats and chains. Truth or fiction?
Pete Simonelli: It happened to me in 1995.

Your stage presence is rather outgoing. You've got some moves, Pete. What inspires you to leap around and gesture like that?
Pete Simonelli: I'm pissed off because the mime troupe won't have me.

You had your hands down your pants the last time I saw you perform. But not in a lame or decadent Jim Morrison-type way. It was pretty sinister. What was that all about?
Pete Simonelli: Mention that clown Morrison one more time and I'm coming over there, Jordan.

Jordan N. Mamone is a writer based in New York.