Chris Slusarenko and John Moen of the Portland indie rock band Eyelids are in their early 50s. Poet and songwriter Larry Beckett is in his early 70s. But their new record together, “The Accidental Falls,” owes its existence to a couple of teenagers.
A few years ago, Slusarenko went to Beckett’s house to pick up his daughter, a school friend of Beckett’s son.
“I was in the kitchen, and Laura, Larry’s wife was there,” Slusaranko said. “And we’re talking a bit and she says, ‘Oh, Larry’s in music (too). And I was like, ‘I didn’t know that, what does he do?’
“‘Oh, he was a lyricist for Tim Buckley.’
“What? Tim Buckley?”
Slusarenko’s own rock ’n’ roll resume includes the ’90s Portland Sub Pop band Sprinkler, a stint in Guided By Voices and the “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” tribute record, “Wig in a Box,” which he produced.
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But indeed: Tim Buckley? The uncategorizably experimental singer-songwriter, who died in 1975 at the age of 28, was a true rock ’n’ roll legend (as well as the father of musician Jeff Buckley). And Beckett co-wrote many of his early songs, including the indelible and oft-covered “Song to the Siren.”
Next time Slusarenko and Beckett crossed paths, they bonded over bands who were essentially Buckley and Beckett’s peers — the Byrds, Love, Buffalo Springfield — and have influenced Eyelids both directly and indirectly (via the likes of R.E.M. and Teenage Fanclub). Beckett had also checked out Eyelids’ records and was full of praise and curiosity.
“He had a lot of questions about specific choices we made,” Slusarenko said. “He really was listening. He just knew Eyelids. I was shocked.”
The poet and songwriter, who went to high school with Buckley in California but has lived in Portland in more recent years, had notebooks full of lyrics that were still in search of songs. Working together seemed like a no-brainer.
“I think we thought maybe we’d get a cool EP out of it,” Slusarenko said.
Instead, they got “The Accidental Falls.” Produced by Peter Buck (you know, that guy who used to be in R.E.M. but is now a Portland stalwart in The Minus Five and Filthy Friends), it is technically Eyelids’ fourth record and seals their reputation as one of Portland’s finest bands, as well as one with an increasing national and international profile (British music mags like Mojo and Uncut love them, as does NPR and Billboard).
“Eyelids is the first band where I feel a little out-of-body,” Slusarenko said. “I listen to it and I’m like, there’s no way I’m involved with it.”
It’s a lovely and unexpected development for a group that started out as something of a side gig: five well-traveled musicians and longtime friends playing mostly for fun, to showcase Moen and Slusarenko’s songs. (Bassist Jim Talstra, guitarist Jonathan Drews and drummer Paulie Pulvirenti round out the lineup.)
“I’ve been working on music forever, but Eyelids is kind of the best version of me doing that, outside of being a drummer for other people,” said Moen, who’s been in The Decemberists since 2006. Before that, he was with Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks.
But in today’s digital-first music business, what else is there besides art for art’s sake? Eyelids are signed to a prolific local record label, Jealous Butcher, and are about to start a U.S. tour, but the band is still essentially a do-it-yourself passion project. In 2020, no matter how famous your favorite musician, writer or artist is, they are probably grinding to make ends meet, whether it’s housing or health care or just trying to do what they do without getting too deep in the red.
“It hasn’t really turned into a financial thing for us that supports itself entirely,” Moen said. Technically The Decemberists are his day job, while Slusarenko, who until recently owned the now-closed Clinton Street Video, works at Aika Music, which creates movie, TV and advertising soundtracks (his collaboration with John Cameron Mitchell and the Drive-By Truckers’ Jay Gonzaelz on “Shrill” was an Aika project).
Moen half-jokingly calls Eyelids a “hobby band,” but that’s also part of why it thrives.
“The best ideas are sort of a lark,” he said. “Something you think would be neat to do, and it just kind of keeps going.”
Much like working with Beckett on “The Accidental Falls.” When Moen and Slusarenko began swapping ideas with their new friend, there was almost instant chemistry. They wrote songs to some of Beckett’s old lyrics, and Beckett also wrote new lyrics specifically for Eyelids. As a band whose answer to the “which comes first, the music or the lyrics?” question is definitely “the music,” it was fun for them to set that part aside temporarily, without feeling like they had to change their voice.
“It felt like a completely honest extension of us lyrically,” Slusarenko said. “What Larry’s really good at is leaving enough there for the personality of the person to step in and kind of make it their own.”
Beckett had also offered them a never-recorded song he wrote with Buckley, “Found at the Scene of a Rendezvous That Failed.” Initially, the band felt poorly suited to, or perhaps unworthy of, that honor. But by the end of the recording session, everything felt different.
“John said, ‘You know what? I think we are the band to do this Tim Buckley song,’” Slusarenko said. “And at that point, I was like, ‘Yeah, you’re right. We should do it.’”
Buck, who played bass on the track, was especially blown away by the gravitas of that decision.
“I think he had a lot more context,” Moen said. “Being maybe a bigger fan of Tim, and also being a little older than us. He just kind of knew what was going on in the room. We were like, ‘Oh, this is fun. This is great!’ And he was like, ‘No, this is a big deal, you guys.’”
Buck and Eyelids and the Minus Five and the Dream Syndicate have ushered in something of a Golden Age for bands of a certain age. Most indie and “alternative” musicians, with some exceptions (including R.E.M.) would have only lasted three or four albums before self-destructing, or running out of things to say, or just losing their their audience. Then they’d move on to “real life” if they could.
Slusarenko remembers seeing Guided By Voices — a band he would later join — in 1995 and thinking, “Oh my gosh, these 35-year-old motherfuckers destroyed the stage!” At the time, 35 may have seemed very old. But 25 years later, you can be an ex-punk rocker, move onto “real life” and still do music at a high level, just like jazz, bluegrass and country artists always have.
“I’m in my early 50s, and it’s like, ‘I’m in a new band!’ That’s weird,” Slusarenko said. “Most bands are reforming. We’re like, no, we’re a new band. Here’s an album. Deal with it!”
Moen can’t imagine doing anything else, but he also didn’t necessarily know that such a thing would actually be possible.
“All those things that I wanted to do when I was a kid, I sort of managed to squeak out a humble version of it,” he said. “Being in rock bands. Playing the artist. Maybe you do it long enough and you get to actually be one.”