Art Majors
St. Louis, Missouri, United States | INDIE
Music
Press
Local indie quartette Art Majors first appeared on the STL scene just last December, and they've been making up for lost time. Their first studio release, The War of Wealth, showcases an inherent ability to create and control momentum, particularly on the standout track, "Race From The Hotel," where a clever combination of organ and upbeat keyboard appropriately support the pseudo-religious lyrical themes ("If I am the tasteful god you're fucking/Light up the chosen one").
- Claire Rachels: Eleven Magazine
A Venn diagram would clearly show that Art Majors is the violet overlap where Liars' red circle and the Walkmen's blue circle touch - where post-punk's innate power matches loud, kinetic instrumentation. At times, Michael Roche's deep growls are a more intense and rambunctious cousin of National lead singer Matt Berninger.
- Liz Deichmann: The Riverfront Times
Later in the afternoon, I made it over to Euclid Records to scope their sidewalk sale and see some of the local bands they had performing on their tiny stage. At 3:30 p.m. the store had about a dozen customers and on-lookers in the store and about a dozen more enjoying the sunshine on the sidewalk. I caught the last few songs by Art Majors; its set was loud but focused, and the mix of reedy Farfisa organ chords and stabbing strums at a Fender Jazzmaster landed in the nexus of Clinic, the Walkmen and Joy Division. It was my first exposure to the quartet, but I'm looking forward to seeing and hearing them again. And isn't that what record stores do best - turn you on to stuff you never knew existed? Seems like a good enough reason to celebrate. - Christian Schaeffer: The Riverfront Times
Discography
The War of Wealth EP
• Cyclonite & Gold
• Race From The Hotel
• This Isn't Happiness
• Guillermo
• Flor De Mariposa
Photos
Bio
News: Art Majors nominated “Best Indie Band” of 2010 by St. Louis’ Riverfront Times.
Band Biography By Mark Dishinger
They are a band reflective of their surroundings - specifically the middle class, ethnic area of South St. Louis. A half mile north of their practice space is a locavore grocery co-op; to the west a man in a dirty Uncle Sam costume hustles people into US Check Cashing; to the east is a tightly knit community where a wandering teenager shot the mailman; and to the south a guy owns a scrap yard with attack dogs he's trained to be friendly to the neighborhood kids so they can use the go-cart track he built for them. This classic American social progressivism in the midst of minor-key despair is what this band is all about. It's these kind of contradictions that evoke lyrics like “We brought up nothing/And nothing has brought us to life.”
Hemingwayesque modernism aside, they're not sad. Every song is tinged with hope, and though sometimes they joke that they sound like a carnival at a funeral, the band is just charting the sun's journey at night.
The sound is driving, majestic, and big. A kinetic thrashing of a Fender Jazzmaster melts into the abrasive reeds of a 60’s electric organ. The jungle thumping of two floor toms sets the pace for a slick bass line that could score a vintage spy movie. Every member adds their own flavor, but the over-reaching message is simple: inspire passion in the passionless.
The shorthand:
If The National and Arcade Fire had a cousin who dug Wolf Parade, it'd be Art Majors.
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