The Lovemakers

The Lovemakers kick off their new EP Misery Loves Company with the surprisingly celebratory title track. An exuberant neo-new wave dancefloor number, with nods to both the Go-Go's and the Passions, it's impossible try not to sing along with this lethal number's contagious chorus. "We Already Said Goodbye" is just as flamboyantly pop, and crosses early Depeche Mode's adoration for an irrepressible melody with jangly Big Star styled guitars. Surprisingly, neither of those infectious numbers were picked for first single, that honor went to "Whine & Dine" a far darker song, fired by a funky rhythm and incendiary guitar solos. But those searing rock licks are nothing compared to those the band trot out in the middle of the epic "Save Me," a song that swells from its moody opening into ever more majestic realms, sliding in prog rock-ish string passages, and then crescendoing into a big rock finale. "Naturally Lonely" is its equal, a lavish, dynamic ballad filled with lush strings and glowing synth. The music, however, is only half the EP's appeal, for the CD also features a video for each of the songs, every one of which equals, if not surpasses, the band's theatrical live shows. Eventually they'll all turn up on You Tube, but why wait to download when you can get 'em all right now, right here? - All Music

- “Misery Loves Company” from The Lovemakers is a record crammed with songs that will cleave themselves to listeners’ minds, and it will take them weeks if not months to get them out of their heads. Formed in 2002 by Lisa Light and Scott Blonde, the band brings forth a new wave sound and modernizes it for the next generation.

The title track has a futuristic and catchy rhythm to it. It blends pop and the new wave beat seamlessly. Light solidly sings about holding her beloved’s affections captive, but this alliance doesn’t seem to be a healthy one for either participant. “Starin’ at me that way. Your tears could fill up this room. I still have nothin’ to say. You are my prisoner…Misery loves company. You claim that you don’t know cuz of your situation.” The downbeat drum and guitar work add to the sullen message of the song.

On “Whine & Dine” there is booming drum work in the intro, conceivably aided by a synthesizer since it echoes to a certain pith. The beat is sunny, though, and has an 80s pop feel to it as Blonde slyly croons about being out of control and unable to reign in his emotions. “I can barely see. I can hardly eat. Tryin’ to figure out what to do. You girls drive me crazy, when you’re actin’ lazy. Here’s a little lesson for you.” Blonde’s voice is ultra calm as he lets out this directive of craziness, but the muted tempo with which he delivers each line will rivet listeners.

On “Naturally Lonely,” Light returns to the microphone and in a vitriolic tone croons about her partner no longer being a part of her life when she gave all of herself to him. Her vocals have a resentful bend to them that could indicate to listeners that she doesn’t wish to be on her own and she is becoming increasingly bitter about it. The occasional crude lyric emphasizes her bitterness as she sings such words such as, “Lights shine on me. Bind you blind me. Oh honey can’t breathe. Make time rewind. F**k all the damn time. I loved you only…Waitin’ for love to come home…Now my head keeps its own company.” The slow build-up in the intro could signal to listeners that her abhorrence for her ex is about to boil over, yet Light is tentatively keeping it in check.

The Lovemakers’ “Misery Loves Company” has melodic rhythms about love that is gone and just how enraged the band is at that outcome. Though many of the songs are upbeat in their pace, which is an inconsistency to their introspective lyrics, listeners might find that intriguing nonetheless.

Reviewer: Sari N. Kent

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Reviewer's Rating: 9.5 - CelebrityCafe.com

The Lovemakers broke up years ago—and they’re still going strong

One of the quirks of music journalism is that oftentimes, on a day when you’re scheduled to interview a musician, you’ll get one of his or her songs stuck in your head. This has happened to me many times, but today is one for the books: “Set Me Free,” one of many diabolically catchy tunes by the Oakland electro-pop group The Lovemakers, has been pole-dancing on my brain stem literally since the moment I woke up this morning, kidnapping all my thoughts and seeping into every crevice of my consciousness. The song’s bouncy, synth-driven sound, which gives a wink to ’80s acts like The B-52s, Missing Persons and The Human League, belies its bleak lyrics, which address the painful experience of continuing to live with a lover with whom you’ve just broken up. Anyone familiar with The Lovemakers’ colorful history will instantly recognize the song as autobiographical, but there’s a twist here: When Lisa Light, the band’s bassist/vocalist/violinist, penned “Set Me Free,” the events she described in the song hadn’t actually happened … yet.

According to Light, who worked as a marine biologist before she began planting brain-devouring melodies in people’s ears, “Set Me Free” was simply an exercise in “writing a narrative: ‘Oh, God—what would be the worst thing to happen? Wouldn’t it suck if this happened?’” Little did she suspect that in the mid-2000s, just before the band moved to L.A. to record the Times of Romance album on which “Set Me Free” appeared, she and her partner of three years, Lovemakers guitarist/vocalist Scott Blonde, would break up. What followed was, in Light’s words, “probably one of the worst six months that I’ve ever had, given that we had to move to L.A. and live together. We didn’t have any friends; we shared a van; we were in the studio 12 hours a day, six days a week.”

The moral of this story: Be careful what you write. Light chuckles at this thought, noting, “That’s what my mom said! She was like, ‘You’ve gotta stop writing songs like that. You need to start writing about winning the lottery!’”

In spite of all the turbulence, The Lovemakers carried on after the love-makers broke up. “It was never an option to not [keep playing together],” Light states. “It was so tangible that we were doing the right thing and that we needed each other to do it [that] we just dealt with it.”

These days, Blonde and Light are making neither love nor war with each other. According to Light, after going through everything two people could possibly go through together, they’ve settled into a comfortable, almost sibling-like relationship. Those in attendance at their Catalyst gig this Saturday may catch them indulging in some distinctly un-familial antics, though—their notoriously risqué live act still features spontaneous make-out sessions from time to time. “It’s kind of like taking ecstasy, where you’re like, ‘OK, I’m going to deliberately put myself in this weirdo spot, and whatever happens, I’m cool with, and I’m doing it on purpose,’” Light explains.

Now that the smoke from their breakup has cleared, Light and Blonde are free to focus solely on the music. Light says that literally on the day we’re speaking, the group has been listening to the final mixes of its forthcoming album, a follow-up to the 2007 EP Misery Loves Company. Titled Let’s Be Friends (“We try to keep it all transparent,” Light laughs), the album will blend the dance pop style of Romance with the more straight-ahead rock sound of Misery.

I figured as much: Once I finally get “Set Me Free” out of my head, The Lovemakers will be standing by with a whole new batch of maddeningly catchy songs to replace it. - Good Times, Santa Cruz, CA

It was summer 2002 when Lisa Light and Scott Blonde were kicked out of indie band Applesaucer because of repeated passionate and disruptive make-out sessions during rehearsals. Sprinkled with a little bit of Ziggy’s stardust and one of Freddy Mercury’s mustache hairs, they rose from the ashes and dubbed themselves The Lovemakers, an ode to an obscure ’60s Japanese skin flick about a woman-beating pimp and his jazz-loving ho.

“It was called The Weird Lovemakers, but it turned out that there was already a band called that, so we dropped the ‘weird,’” Blonde tells CityBeat. “Little did we know, all these years later we’d be stuck with the name, still doing records and talking about that movie. It’s pretty funny.”

Things were looking up for the Oakland duo after landing a deal with Interscope in 2005. Then, on the eve of their big break, they uncoupled. Still, honorable as the Sumo, they went forth and released Times of Romance, which earned them best-indie-band praise from the alt-weekly San Francisco Bay Guardian. As for their relationship, after working out what Light refers to as “a lot of turmoils,” they morphed from an electro Sonny & Cher outfit to a more fraternal Donny and Marie

“We’ll have open arguments in front of people as if we’re 5-year-old siblings,” Blonde says. “It’s very much the same immature banter, but we love writing music, so it’s come down to loving what we do.”

By the time they released the EP Misery Loves Company in 2007, with its infectious DIY synth sound, the alt-weekly East Bay Express named them best pop group, a title that Light takes with a grain of salt: “Pop is not a dirty word. We put out a lot of sing-along kinda stuff, but who’s to say what it is. We’re just who we are, man.”

Blonde recalls that they were initially regarded as electroclash, a subgenre popular in the early ’00s.

“When that went away, we were ‘new wave’ or ‘dark wave’ or something like that. Someone just told me I sound like Simon Le Bon, so I guess we’re just an ’80s band now,” he jokes.

The Lovemakers’ sound is also a product of the Oakland warehouse-party scene.

“To me, it always had a dirty, gritty kind of lo-fi feel to it,” says Light, who’s also a Stanford graduate and retired circus musician. “As far as the future, it’s just under the surface. From dance to stuff that’s almost un-listenable there’s a lot going on.”

Their forthcoming independent release, the aptly titled, Let’s Be Friends, was recorded at San Francisco’s Talking House studios and was overseen by legendary mixer Clif Norrell (the man behind R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People).

For once, Blonde says the experience was a breeze.

“We barely had to say or do anything; [Norrell] knew exactly what we wanted,” says Light, who describes the record as an expansion of their now-signature sound. “It’s kind of what we’ve always done—just more of everything and in every direction, more of the same, but with more cherries on top.”

Their live shows are highly visceral affairs.

“We get lost in our own world,” Light says. “We like to include the audience and let them in—we’ll go offstage and look ’em right in the eyes, throw up a little bit, maybe.” And hopefully, after a piece of gum, a little make-out session follows.

“We don’t like to make it too formulated,” Blonde adds, “but if the show is really going well, we’re feeling good about it and hitting all the marks and getting as much back from the audience as we’re giving, then it’s kinda like anything goes at that point.”

As for Applesaucer, Light says, “I don’t know what they do now at all. A lot of them have children, so they’re probably changing diapers as we speak.”

Success, after all, especially with all the cherries on top, is the sweetest revenge. - San Diego City Beat - 03/09

Only an exceptionally talented group of musicians can write a naughty strip-club hit while still maintaining underground indie-rock street cred. The Lovemakers, the Oakland-based electro-pop band that everyone knew would "make it," actually did. And though Lisa Light and Scott Blonde are still playing small venues like the Rickshaw Stop, at this very moment accomplished strippers around the world are actually shaking their asses to "Shake That Ass": the band's sexy, catchy, 2005 Scissor Sisters-esque single, a tune as haunting and memorable as the image of a busty bottle blond swinging around a brass pole. However, this gorgeous anthem of one-night-stands isn't really representative of the Lovemakers' typically darker, more new-wavy sound, which the band describes as "Led Zeppelin covering Prince" but is perhaps more like the Cure covering the B-52s. - East Bay Express

In the eighties, the only thing more important to a band than big hair was big hooks. The Lovemakers understand this, and that's why their major-label debut evokes the New Wave era more effectively than bands with lesser melodic skills. This Oakland, California, trio backs up its flashy outfits and camp stage act with classic pop craft. Ex-couple Scott Blonde and Lisa Light document their messy romantic blowout by singing to one another in classic Fleetwood Mac mode: Check how Blonde follows Light's Go-Go's-worthy "Set Me Free" with the jangly guitars of his despondent but still danceable "Falling Apart." Manchester-born Jason Proctor's synths spray sugar over the rock elements, and the winsome boy-girl harmonies substantiate the glitz with heart. Framed by two versions of their suitably dramatic single "Prepare for the Fight," Times of Romance delivers singalong melodies that linger long after the requisite dance-rock beats.
- ROLLING STONE

"Prepare for the Fight" is number 17 on November 2005 issue of Blender magazine's songs to download - Blender

Oakland's next big thing, the Lovemakers, was born when Scott Blonde and Lisa Light got tossed out of their band for dating each other. ("Call me Yoko," Light says, giving Blonde a sideways glance during the backyard interview). They decided to use Prince instead of Pavement as inspiration, added Jason Proctor on keyboards, and quickly became known as the hot band that would get sweaty, use vibrators to play the guitar and make out on stage.
By the end of 2003, their raunchy, Human League-like act had developed enough of a following to enable them to headline shows around town. They attracted attention from major record labels, recorded demos with the producers of Las Vegas' trendy band the Killers and eventually signed with Cherrytree, a new imprint from Interscope records. After cutting a short album by themselves in 2004, they were ready to record at a fancy studio in Los Angeles.
But then something rather awful happened.
The primary relationship between Light and Blonde, the fuel for both the music and the live shows, fell apart. No more lovemaking for the Lovemakers.
"We didn't have a choice," Light says, smoking a cigarette in a deck chair on her porch. She still lives in the studio she and Blonde shared. "We got this amazing opportunity from Interscope, we had to record a record and there was no way we couldn't see each other." Without looking at Blonde, who is sitting on her left, she says, "It was hard."
Later on, she would acknowledge that in addition to living together and playing music together, they also work across the street from each other in the Rockridge area of Oakland. "When I was parking my car this morning, I almost ran over Scott," she says, laughing. "He's everywhere."
"My fear," says Proctor, the slightly older British man who stands behind the keyboard while Light and Blonde wail away, "was that with no Lisa and Scott, no band."
"But we were always thinking about the future," Blonde says, talking with his hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head on the chilly August night. "We are way too invested in the music to really think of quitting."
After spending four months in Los Angeles this spring recording "Time of Romance" for Cherrytree -- the imprint of the well-respected Martin Kierszenbaum, who signed Russian sensations t.A.T.u. and English pop stars Keane -- with their new drummer, Josh "the Eagle" Kilbourne, the Lovemakers are preparing to take their act to a national audience. Their single, "Prepare for the Fight," put out in advance of the album's release date of this Tuesday, has been climbing the Billboard club charts (currently No. 17) and they headlined (with the Foo Fighters) at this summer's Live 105 arena rock event, BFD. They are expected to join a to-be-determined big touring act this fall after playing at New York City's CMJ Music Marathon festival in September.
But before the storm comes the calm. None of the Lovemakers have given up their day jobs -- Proctor works as a software consultant, Blonde and Light (who holds a degree from Stanford in marine biology and has also been a circus violinist) work in restaurants.
Blonde, who plays the guitar and sings, and Light, who plays the violin and sings, have been a musical match from the beginning. After leaving their previous band, Applesaucer, who played shoegazer indie rock, the kind where the audience indicates appreciation by nodding in time to the beat, they were eager to bring a different kind of energy into the scene.
In June 2002, they partnered with Proctor, who met Blonde through, no kidding, a role-playing game. "No dress-up, no jousting, just dice," Proctor says by way of explanation.
Their first show was at a warehouse in Oakland; word-of-mouth about their live work, filled with '80s-tinged synth beats and operatic duets and, of course, make-out sessions spread so fast that they were playing Bottom of the Hill by their third show with a major label's scout in the audience.
"They take you back to listening to Thompson Twins, when you had a crush on girl for the first time. They have a retro sound," says Joseph Raaen, booker for San Francisco's Cafe Du Nord. The Lovemakers, by their own estimation, have played Du Nord more than any other venue in the city: They have had two monthlong residencies this year and have played the past two New Year's Eve shows.
"It's really great to see a bunch of indie kids moving -- most of the time, those kids are standing with their arms crossed, being critical. But with the Lovemakers, they let loose," says Raaen.
Although the Lovemakers are very excited to not have to deal with the "electroclash" label that has been thrown around over the past few years, they still struggle against the decade that spawned their most obvious influences - - Gary Numan, the Cure, Human League. "We've tried to steer away from the '80s -- it's a bad decision to pigeonhole yourself as being tied to a particular scene. We've never really been part of a scene," says Blonde.
Indeed, it does seem that the Lovemakers don't have any obvious musical counterparts in the Bay Area. The Oakland warehouse scene is rife with noise and experimental acts -- from the Flying Luttenbachers to Kid606 -- whose members seem to have three projects going on at once. The Lovemakers have been committed to their band, and only their band, from the start.
They also never thought they would remain local, gigging around the Bay Area before settling on a small label. After working with the professional production team, they gave their demos to Interscope in an exclusive, first- look deal. It was a good fit.
"We wanted to make a pop record that could cross over to big audiences," Blonde says. "We knew that we needed to find a big label because ..."
"We had no friends," Light interjects, a little off-subject.
"Well, mostly because there's no small label that would have us," Blonde continues. "The ones were talked to were like, 'This is great, but we can't do anything with it.' We were thinking about 'Thriller' or some other big record that's kind of a rarity nowadays."
While the Lovemakers were emphatic about their anti-social natures, it was a good friend who first got them on Interscope's radar. Lisa Ingram, a photographer who became Light and Blonde's landlord when they moved into the studio behind her house, regularly recommends bands to her friend Andrea Ruffalo at Interscope.
"I knew if Martin (Kierszenbaum), Andrea's boss, actually saw them play, he'd get it," says Ingram. "They want the show to be a spectacle, and their performance matches their lyrics -- dramatic, passionate, charismatic. Their songwriting and sound has totally evolved, too -- in the earlier days, sounded more like Human League, now it's way close to guitar rock."
Kierszenbaum says that he was blown away by the shows he attended and approved of their strong work ethic. "They're the kind of band that I really want to be involved in -- makes life a lot easier when they can create their own fan base. The Lovemakers see themselves as DIY kind of band, but they write catchy songs that can appeal to a very wide audience."
Cherrytree has only released albums by two other artists -- torchlight singer Feist and the Bay Area's Flipsyde -- and Kierszenbaum says he expects to build a national following organically, without the "front-loaded attack" typical of a major label. "We're working the 12-inch single, working the Internet. Feist put it really well in an NPR interview -- Cherrytree is a mom-and-pop shop inside of a department store. We aim to get artists with guts and vision and give them time to grow."
While the Lovemakers wait to get a chance for national exposure, they claim that their personal history hasn't affected their performances. "Scott and Lisa have a romantic, creative relationship that will always be there," says Ingram. "It doesn't seem their shows have changed. They have the same sort of relationship-like quarrels, only now it's all about their music."
Ingram, who has seen them play "countless" times over the past few years, has another explanation for their popularity beyond the voyeuristic appeal of two good-looking people French-kissing in skimpy clothing. "They exude sexuality beyond just what they do onstage. Every time I look around the room when they're playing, I see people just start making out.
"Who knows," Ingram says, laughing into the phone, "you might just accidentally have sex when you see the Lovemakers." - SF Chronicle

It's tricky coming up with something au courant in a genre built
around a two-decade-old sonic facsimile. Kudos then to Oakland's
synth-pop menage-a-trois the Lovemakers, who despite "a backing
track that sounds like it was pulled out of a cryogenic freeze
dating to the Gipper's first term" managed to bulls-eye the millennial
Zeitgeist with the self-evident humor of "Internet Girlfriend",
surely the most piquant male-female tete-a-tete since Berlin's
"Sex (I'm a . . .)." Yes, the band's onstage persona is precariously
based upon the single-entendre sexual interplay between real-life
love-makers singer-guitarist Scott Blonde and
singer/bassist/violinist/vibrator-wrangler Lisa Light. Yes, if
you're familiar with Duran Duran, Depeche Mode and Human League,
you've already heard synth whiz kid Jason Proctor's greatest hits.
But there's a good reason Interscope scooped up these indie kids
and hired the Eurythmics' Dave Stewart to produce the follow-up to
their self-titled 2003 debut: The music's tight, the show's a
sexually charged spectacle, and the urge to dance is guaranteed.
(Liam Gowing) - LA Weekly