The Armchairs

The power has just gone out at Punk Rock Payroll’s studios in South Philly, leaving The Armchairs in the early evening darkness. Band member Michael Chadwick has reportedly stuck his head in a box. Andy Molholt suspects that the outage has both caused a leak in the roof and made the room smell worse. The remaining Michael and Andrew — this is a band of exclusively Michaels and Andrews — are cheering the other two on.

There are no rules while on speakerphone in the dark.

“My question is, where the hell are the hover-boards?” says Molholt when it is agreed that we should return to questions. “I was promised hoverboards. We’re not very happy with where the future has gone.”

That’s fair, and might (but most likely doesn’t) explain why their debut album, “Science & Advice,” at times sounds like it should be listened to in a daisy chain and polyester suit. Pop-y and a little psychedelic — with a 50-second ode to Harrison Ford “saving people from his helicopter” for good measure — it’s a welcome, refreshing break from summer in Philly.

Friday night’s release party seems like it’s going to be just as fun, despite the electricity and lack of Ford. “There’s going to be a magic show,” says Molholt. “An Easter egg hunt. A guy hanging from hooks. If there’s not an Easter egg hunt, blame Andy Molholt.”

Will do. - by Monica Weymouth

From the ashes of The Kinks, The Zombies and Pink Floyd comes The Armchairs, a rambunctious quartet with an “I don’t give a shit” attitude. This young foursome has been churning out a twisted concoction of psych-pop that continues to evolve and mature. The Armchairs are what you would listen to if you were sitting on your porch with your best friends in the summertime with a cold PBR in one hand, a shot of whisky in the other and a spliff in your lips. If you decided to drum along on the porch rail and your buddy started banging on a cow bell next to you (though where he pulled it out from you have no clue), the two of you would fit right into the mix so don’t be afraid to grab your favorite wig, cape and tidy whities to join in with these bunch of fun-loving hooligans from Fishtown. - Q.D. Tran - Deli Magazine

Philadelphia not only is a great city with a great baseball team and tons of nice people living in it, but there is lots of really awesome music coming out of Philly these days. Two of our favorite bands Drink Up Buttercup and Dr. Dog both hail from Philly as does one of one of our fave frontman turned solo artist Alec Ounsworth and now we've discovered a third MAJOR band from Philly that we think you should check out for sure, The Armchairs.

The Armchairs have a really cool quirky, Brit poppy, 60's trippy sound. If you like Drink Up Buttercup you'll like the Armchairs for sure.

The Armchairs are currently out on tour and if you live in NYC you can catch them out at Death By Audio in Brooklyn on Tuesday November 3rd. They swing back NYC way on December 1st when they play Pianos in Manhattan. For all of you who don't live in NYC you can check The Armchairs myspace page (linked below) to see when they will be playing a town near you. They are not to be missed live!!

http://wwwwhatever-amy.blogspot.com/2009/11/band-to-check-out-armchairs.html - by Amy Grimm

I called it, many years ago. I’m usually way behind the curve on new developments of things, but in the mid-00s I downloaded Dr. Dog’s Easybeat for free off their website and loved it so hard that I instantly knew: Philadelphia was the new world capital of 1960s psych-pop, burning Atlanta to the ground. Before that point I didn’t think it was possible for anyone other than a horrible jam band to list Frank Zappa as an influence, but the new style of weird and whimsical acid-folky-whatever that’s been churning out of the place for the past 5 years somehow manages to pull it off over and over again without sounding derivative or cutesy. From the Extraordinaires to Drink Up Buttercup to the latest joyful surprise in my in-box, the Armchairs, it seems the 2-tenor harmonies, cleverly brutal low-fi production, and dadaist Owl and Pussycat lyrics you can frug to will never get tiresome to me or to the seemingly endless population of British Invasion-obsessed inhabitants in the City of Brotherly Love.

The Armchairs are especially good at the quirkier brand of Philadelica (I’d call it Psychedelphia but there’s a chubby jam band called that so let’s not cross the streams), containing more literary references and Floyd timechanges than twistable riffs, but they still know how to pop out a shuffle-dance inducing beat when they need to. Also they have some pretty sweet moves of their own…

Since they’re opening for Bellman Barker at the Velvety Lounge tonight we asked them to send us some songs and talk about them while we eat cereal in our PJs. At least that’s what I’m doing while listening to them. If you have any PJs put them on now.

- Brightest Young Things

It's not necessarily the best place to start, when exploring the Philadelphia band The Armchairs oeuvre, but the live cut from Y-Rock, a program on their city's influential radio station, WXPN, that the band features on its MySpace page is certainly a place to start. Though it's not indicative of the group's overall essence, the song - or melt of songs "Deep Sea/Frogs In The Bogs" - lets us into the kind of odd, odd blitz of influences that come together to make an art rock piece akin to Nada Surf's albatross," Popular." It's a song that features singer Andrew Morris speak-singing some old, science book manual or textbook over music that seems to be determined on the spot, following his escalating and diminishing emotion. The text that Morris reads goes into the survival mechanisms and plans of attack of a very generic, all-encompassing group of animals referred to simply as "deep sea creatures." These could be many things and we get a real sense of the dog-eat-dog world in those oceanic depths in the hurried quality of his delivery and the shakiness of it as well, as he says, "Imbibe the flesh of a deep sea creature. Imbibe the flesh of a deep sea creature and gain longevity. Real longevity is dependent on how many deep sea creatures you can imbibe. The oil of a creature can help your brain function better. Most types of brain chemicals can be augmented by the oil of a fish. The oil of a fish has healing properties that extend far beyond science's recognition." We've been carted off to this place of utter astonishment, with Morris' inflections reaching a certain peak and then the rest of the band - Andy Molholt, Michael Chadwick and Mike Harkness - break into a song that trots along a little more, getting no less strange. It's the Armchairs' way to overstep the boundaries of what's deemed normal in indie rock and roll, getting to the points that they want to get to, not those that the audience might anticipate them getting to. It's selfish, in a way, but it's also extremely interesting as they make a youthful take on music that could be referenced to only in colorful metaphors of certain bands having sex together and creating all kinds of mutant offspring. There are times when we're hearing - not just in the prominent science bent of some songs - They Might Be Giants and then another song, such as "Bear! Bathes," begins in very classic, Zombies, "Odessey and Oracle" ways and ends with a freakout spazzing of the line, "Harrison Ford saving people from his helicopter." The Armchairs take on cues from early Of Montreal material, when Kevin Barnes was flighty and quirky and constructing songs from scraps, making a lively and suspenseful hodge-podge. One of the final bits of textbook that is recited at the tail end of "Deep Sea," is thus, "Your own type of energy can be named anything you want," and it's spoken with big effect and true giddiness, as if this is what should be striven for all along, something the Armchairs know a lot about: new types of energy that they can name whatever they damn well please. - Daytrotter

When I turn back around, the four guys gathered at the table have all taken off their shirts.

Their bare chests are covered in white stickers plucked from gourmet cheese wrappers. Yet they remain poker-faced, continuing the conversation nonchalantly as we sit on the roof of Kensington DIY space The Ox, pausing only occasionally to tear cheese labels (and chest hair) off each other.

"So, moving along," says Andy Molholt, singer-guitarist of The Armchairs. "I don't mean to derail what you have in mind to talk about."

Matter of fact, this is exactly what I have in mind. I didn't expect dairy sticker exhibitionism, but I expected something. In their two years on the Philadelphia scene, the band — Molholt, keyboardist Michael Chadwick, bassist Andrew Morris and drummer Mike Harkness — have developed a reputation for playfully messing with their audience (at a recent show, Morris read aloud from The Communist Manifesto while the band space-jammed behind him), fellow musicians (when opening for Toy Soldiers at the TLA, they repeatedly hollered "stay tuned for more racist bands" between songs) and journalists interviewing them (well, cheese stickers).

They walk the tightrope between absurdist performance art and solid pop-rock. Their new Science & Advice, released this week on South Philly label Punk Rock Payroll, is a mind-bendy variety show of breezy psych tunes ("Trees"), jaunty British Invasion hooks ("Little Sammy Ghetz") and lysergic instrumentals ("What for My Cow Eating There?"). It recalls Ray Davies, Brian Wilson and the Apples in Stereo, but more free-spirited.

The first name the band brings up, however, isn't a musician. Not exactly.

"It's all part of our Andy Kaufman obsession," Molholt says when asked about The Armchairs' antics.

I ask about how a subversive 1970s comedian could influence a rock band. Chadwick corrects me. "He didn't consider himself a comedian," he says. "He wanted to be a song-and-dance man."

Known for performance eccentricities — reading The Great Gatsby aloud, lip-synching to records from a phonograph, abusing spectators through his alter ego Tony Clifton — Kaufman challenged audiences expecting a more commonplace form of entertainment. Molholt explains his admiration: "He would bring people to the brink, and he would bring 'em back. And then he would bring people closer to the brink and over the edge and then he would bring 'em back, ya know?"

Likewise, The Armchairs operate on two principles: Their crowds shouldn't be passive participants in the show. And the show, like any good entertainment, should provoke a reaction, one way or another. The philosophy took shape when Molholt and Chadwick's recording project at Columbia College of Chicago became a performing band back home in Philly, augmented by UArts roommates Morris and Harkness.

The discussion turns to process. Is their act planned? Improv'd?

"On the way to a show we'll come up with random ideas," Harkness illustrates. "'Tonight's theme is mentally retarded sharks — go!'"

Molholt says brainstorming and free-association are where the majority of their sketches and pranks come from; Morris adds that radio appearances, like a WQHS session themed around the Roaring '20s, are sometimes scripted.

"But depending on how we're feeling that day, depending on what we brought with us, depending on all these different circumstances," Molholt continues, "different things will come out of us."

Including their music. It might be easily overlooked amid the spectacle, were Science & Advice not such a ridiculously catchy album. A clip-clop piano and McCartney swagger defines "Gloria," whereas the slower "Solar Puff" moves in a drifty Donovan sway. But the band has enough personality that stylistic forebears aren't overbearing.

"The Armchairs are a ball of creative energy," says labelmate Chrissy Tashjian of Dangerous Ponies. "They really stretch the bounds of pop to make such an exception for the strange and bizarre without you noticing right off the bat."

"Their ability to construct well-written songs with their down-to-earth lyrical approach sets them apart from bands that take themselves too seriously," adds Frede Zimmer of Punk Rock Payroll, "while simultaneously keeping them out of the genre of bands that are only known for not taking themselves seriously."

The band prefers not to worry about how they're perceived. "Once you see an artist doing that, trying to tiptoe across eggshells, it's obvious," says Molholt. "You're not fucking cool, you're just trying to be what everybody wants you to be."

Which is easy enough to say on the eve of their debut full-length's release; they haven't yet had to deal with the weight of expectation on a broader scale. Morris agrees, calling it a problem every musician faces. Artists don't (usually) live in isolation, they are fully aware how people view them. "And what do you do with that?"

"Keep 'em guessing," says Harkness.

Chadwick ponders quietly, then offers, "One thing that I think is gonna make the dynamic of the whole process a lot better and more interesting is the point at which we can all afford really nice samurai swords."

Molholt laughs. "Everybody thought you were going to say 'quit our day jobs.'"

Exactly. - Philadelphia Citypaper

To call Philly’s the Armchairs a bunch of hooligans really wouldn’t be fair. After all, hooligans don’t create brilliantly crafted psych-pop songs (think Of Montreal meets the Zombies, only less gay) or throw crazy live shows complete with light projections, stand-up comedy bits and hot-dog costumes, do they?

Ok, so maybe they do.

But the Armchairs seem to do it especially well. The Philly foursome, who formed a few years ago when University of Chicago roommates Andy Molholt and Michael Chadwick met University of the Arts roommates Andrew Morris and Mike Harkness (yes, everyone in the band is named either Andrew or Michael), has been growing in popularity as of late, winning audiences with their catchy melodies and outrageous antics.

From clang-y chamber pop concoctions (“Lost in a dream”; “Little Sammy Ghets”) to laid-back psychedelic meanderings (“Solar puff”; “An encouraging shout to hunting hounds”), the Armchairs have taken a well-known Philly style (DIY-psych-pop) and made it their own, adding energy, passion and a healthy dose of tomfoolery.

I meet up with the guys at Fishtown’s Penn Treaty Park (their suggestion) to play Frisbee, hang near the water, and chat a little about their style and influences. It’s absolutely gorgeous out – 75 degrees, sunny and breezy. And what’s more…they bring watermelon!

“Uhhh, we bought you a watermelon,” says Harkness, carrying a fruit as big as his head. He also has a giant knife, wrapped in paper, which he unwraps and uses to cut the watermelon into giant slabs.

We eat it; it’s delicious. It also gets everywhere. Molholt hands out pages of Philly Weekly for us to wipe our mouths with, and Morris offers me his hand to shake, which is wet and sticky. They throw the rinds to the ducks. Very funny, these dudes!

I ask the guys where they find inspiration for their songs.

“Honestly,” says Molholt, mouth dripping fruit juice, “mostly it’s us just getting fucked up and sitting on our couch [Molholt, Chadwick and Harkness all live together in Fishtown] playing with all the weird shit we have lying around.” He smiles. “I have a huge costume collection that I’ve been adding to for years….”

“This one time someone left this boogie board shaped like a shark at our place—” interjects Morris. “We wrote the song ‘Shark’ that hour!”

The list of local bands they love is too long to list – the Extraordinaires, Toy Soldiers, Perkasie, Buffalo Stance, and Drink up Buttercup, for starters – and they describe the local scene as extremely supportive and cohesive.

“It definitely feels more connected here than in Chicago,” admits Chadwick. “Here, it seems like everyone has a band, and everyone knows each other, and there’s a lot of people making great music.”

The band regales me with tales from their first (and so far only) tour: epic fireworks battles with Quantine Rabbit, getting hit on by a large, intoxicated 65-year-old woman in Nashville (“the video’s on our Myspace! they add) – and insists I include a shout-out to their best friend Marty. “267-664-5834,” they tell me, making sure I write it down. “You HAVE to put that in.”

Of course, the Armchairs aren’t JUST crazy, stunt-loving goofballs – they definitely know how to work hard and play hard. At current, they’re putting the finishing touches on their debut LP, due out this fall (tentatively titled Fishtown Lock & Gun after a street sign in their neighborhood) and claim to have close to 150 songs in their repertoire.

“Really, we have enough for our second album too” says Morris. “Possibly a third. We’re very prolific.”

I continue chatting with the Armchairs for over an hour, amused and enraptured by their witty banter. Finally, I close with one final question – So is there anything else they want me to know?

They’re silent for about 10 seconds until Morris exclaims: “Chadwick’s a really fast crab-walker!” He jumps up, and punches Chadwick on the shoulder. “Come on, show us! Let’s have a crab-walk race!”

They take their places a few yards away, Molholt, Morris, and Chadwick in crab-walk position and Harkness on foot (for comparison).

“On your mark, get set –“

Chadwick is off like a speed demon, while Molhot and Morris struggle in comparison. He just loses out to Harkness, and crumbles in a heap.

I leave the park later that night with a huge smile on my face, my stomach filled with delicious watermelon. Hooligans or not, the Armchairs are so much fun to be around – I can’t wait to see them live!

Catch the Armchairs live TONIGHT, Friday, at the North Star Bar, along with the Panic Years, Cheers Elephant, Lohio, and Perkasie.


Posted by Kate Bracaglia @ 10:57 AM

- Phrequency.com - by Kate Bracaglia

Philadelphia's key-driven indie rockers The Armchairs don't like to pigeonhole themselves. They have no genres listed on their Myspace page, and while influences like Fiery Furnaces, Of Montreal and The Velvet Underground are unmistakable, they write pop songs that are certifiably non-pop. Their songs are catchy and fluid without abiding by any of the rigid radio pop standards. The Armchairs' brief tunes often channel the likes of '60s folk and prog with a true knack for melody and unpredictable structure. Think The Zombies with a pinch of Deerhoof. I haven't caught these guys live yet, but I get the feeling they put on a completely legit show.

- by D. Patrick Rodgers

From the upcoming full-length, [Science & Advice,] here’s a rough mix of “Sammy Ghetz”. You hear in the outro, “I don’t think we played that right”–I love it. This one’s a pretty basic track, but it’s done well: nice voice, warm tones in the guitar and keys, details in the drumming, and all of that spunky groove throughout.

- by Sarahana Shrestha

When South Philly newcomers The Armchairs sent us their organ-led demo this past winter, we were intrigued. It sounded like it was cooked up in a sweltering, echoing airport hangar, but the joy was evident. Cuts from their new [Science & Advice] — particularly the riffy "Sammy Ghetz" — prove just as delightful, and less buried in roomtone. They'll have more room for costumes when they take the Milkboy stage this week.

- by John Vettese

The Armchairs are another new fun and fantastic psychedelic-pop influenced new bands from Philly that we're digging. The assorted compliments they've gotten from the local press are coming in droves from a number of places and including Phrequency and Philly Weekly. With a new full length album on the way, the band are performing at Johnny Brenda's this Saturday night November 14th along with another Philly band we dig called Cheers Elephant . These guys have a ton of exciting energy and some pretty groovy tunes to go with that. Check out this song..

http://wxpn.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-morning-download-111209-armchairs.html

- by Bruce Warren

“I think we’re just weird idiots,” says Michael Chadwick, when asked where his band, The Armchairs, manages to come up with their unique indie-psyche blend of pop. “Someone comes up with an idea. It might be serious at first, but we tend to make it absurd.”

Reminiscent of bands like The Velvet Underground, The Zombies and The Kinks, The Armchairs are a Philly foursome letting off a sound that’s more circus, less night-at-the-club than most of what’s coming out of Philly’s pop scene these days.

I speak with members Michael Chadwick and Andy Molholt over the phone, trying to decipher what, exactly, got these guys to where they are today – headlining shows all over Philly, touring the east coast, playing tunes that aren’t really genre-specific, lackadaisically accepting their success as it comes.

They tell me their influences include Andy Kaufman and Richard Elfman (Danny Elfman’s brother) and his 1982 movie, The Forbidden Zone, called by one critic, a “sheer insane spectacle” that “would certainly qualify as among the most gold-bedecked movies of the past quarter century.” We manage to discuss the flick for more for more than just a few minutes. (The film is about traveling through dimensions by way of gigantic intestine.)

“It’s got the midget from that Fantasy Island show in it,” says Molholt. “If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it.”

Sometimes, these guys costume-up on stage, dressing like hot dogs, furry animals, and space aliens. Or, half-costume up. It depends. Days they wear their costumes, if I’m hearing correctly, they call these Foosdays. “That’s a very serious part of our band,” says Molholt.

Chadwick cuts in. “That’s when you pick a costume that you’ve had on standby. There are three states of the show. The first one is no costume. The second is the half. The third is full. It’s like how animals evolve. It’s sort of Darwinian in a way. It’s an evolutionary process.”

Okay, I ask, but what’s the relevance of that?

“I think I can answer that quite simply,” says Chadwick. “There is no significance at all.”

“It’s like a cosmic thing,” remarks Molholt.

Got it? Me neither.

Just back from a New England/New York tour, The Armchairs have been sporadically recording their first album – an ambitious 17-track self-release. And they’ve been working on it for a year. Previous press reports have mentioned a problem with their original engineer, which is why it’s taken so long. “Don’t mention that,” says Molholt. “Just put he evaporated or something.”

So, really, what makes these guys click to form their sound? They don’t know. Molholt claims he and Chadwick’s music writing connection, since their college days, has always been “explosive.”

“Almost like diarrhea,” says Chadwick. “But happier and more fun. Like if you could dye the diarrhea a festive neon green or something.”

“Diarrhea that’s glowing,” says Molholt.

The Armchairs will be headlining Johnny Brenda’s (1201 N. Frankford Ave) this Saturday (11/14) alongside local acts Cheers Elephant and Univox, and Brooklyn band Horse’s Mouth. The show is $10 and begins at 9pm.

http://philly2philly.com/entertainment/hottest_bands/2009/11/13/22424/philly2philly_music_spotlight_the_armchairs - by Randy Lobasso

Can The Armchairs be trusted?

It's a thorny question. But the four members of this local shambolic indie band come across as the types who might not let veracity and accuracy get in the way of a good time.

After all, they claim to base all that they do on the on the mysterious and ill-defined scientific principle of "number flow theory." They may possibly write anyone their very own song, about any topic of their choosing, for the rock-bottom price of five dollars. They might also be inventing a new sub-genre called "yogurt rock." Oh, and the band's origin story may or may not involve the horrific, accidental deaths of the drummer's parents.

If one wanted to be circumspect, one might call the Armchairs "unreliable narrators." If you wanted to be a little more direct, perhaps more accurate, you could call them "merry pranksters" or maybe just "four guys who like to B.S. a lot." And happen to be great at it.

Which is no insult. Andy Molholt, Michael Chadwick, Andrew Morris and Mike Harkness of The Armchairs seem as though they're on a quest to create adroit, massively entertaining foolishness and avoid self-seriousness in any way possible. They've succeeded on both counts, and it makes their music a hell of a lot of fun to listen to.

"I just want to terrify people," says Andy, the Armchair's guitarist and occasional keyboardist, of his goal for the band, "but in a good way. I want to run up to like, soccer moms, and scream right in their faces, but then tell them that it's all going to be OK. And then run away."

The Armchairs play loose, rhythm-led rock that's openly indebted to Ween and the Mothers of Invention, but stylistically diverse enough to include heavy doses of indie touchstones like Pavement and Olivia Tremor Control and hints of any number of late-60s garage, rock and pop bands. It's a fine combination, it sounds fresh, and it makes you wonder why more bands don't try it.

Songs range from the spazzy, hugely enjoyable shout-along of "Nebraska" to dreamy, downright pretty melodies like "Solar Puff." Every track is bolstered by the band's rambunctious energy and surprisingly tight musicianship, especially apparent in a live setting. Almost every song clocks in at three minutes or less, and that's all that's needed: the band manages to pack quite a lot of their goof-off charm into that brief runtime.

Part of that combination of anarchic energy and professionalism undoubtedly comes from their living situation: the entire band shares one house in Fishtown, and prior to that, the members were college roommates at separate arts schools- Andy and Michael at Columbia College in Chicago, and Mike and Andrew at University of the Arts in Philly. "Two sets of college roommates became one set of college roommates," Andy says. "We're technically our own college." All the members have musical training, making it less of a surprise that they can pull off their whiplash start-stop tempo shifts and skillful instrumental jams during their live shows.

Molly, their non-band roommate, describes it somewhat differently, saying that living with them is like, "If you've ever seen the movie Groundhog Day: Like that. When you're in the same day over and over again, except you're also in the book Where the Wild Things Are."

Though they've been known to perform dressed as hotdogs and take band photos wearing nothing but tighty-whities and layers of spaghetti sauce, the merest mention that they might be, well, a little silly, triggers an outpouring of mock outrage from Andy, Michael and Mike. The three shout over each other in an effort to express their displeasure:
"How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!"
"I'm done. I'm done. That's it."
"If you could see me right now, you'd see that I look very upset."
"We weren't trying to be ridiculous! We didn't do that on purpose! Can you write that like 20 times?"
Moments later, Andy admits, "No man, you're right, we are ridiculous," and the band (minus Andrew Morris, who unfortunately couldn't make the interview) instead suggest that they be portrayed as complete jerks. "The Armchairs didn't even answer any of the questions we asked. They were rude people," Mike offers as a possible line, while Michael adds, "Just, like, talk mad shit on us. We're giving you permission to do that."

But that's the thing about The Armchairs, one of the best things about them: for all their artifice and invention, they don't really need any of it. They're not using weirdness to cover for weaknesses in their sound, or as some kind of hip ironic pose. It's just second nature to them; their idea of a good time.

"So many people [in bands] take themselves so fucking seriously," Andy says, with a combination of amusement and frustration. "'Oh, I'm in a band, I'm so important.' You're not! You're not important! Your band is not important!"
Sure, Andy might claim that he's going to stand in the background and eat yogurt the whole time during their live show, thus inaugurating "yogurt rock," and Michael might joke that Andy struck and killed his parents with a car on the first day they met (he didn't, but he did back into their car). And for the record, you really can commission a song from The Armchairs for bargain prices ("people always think we're joking about that," says Andy. "We're not"). There's always tomfoolery to spare when it comes to The Armchairs. But the one thing these guys seem to take truly seriously is the pure enjoyment that comes from creating, playing and experiencing music. Well, that and number flow theory. - Origivation Magazine - by Brian Kindle

The four men of the Armchairs are a rambunctious group. Constantly bantering and joking, carrying on at least two conversations at once, falling out of chairs laughing and providing a stream of non sequiturs sums up an interaction with them. Guitarist and vocalsit Andy Molholt says the band’s motto is “not taking ourselves too seriously.” Given that devil-may-care attitude, listening to the Armchairs’ songs is a bit of a surprise. They’re well-written, with catchy yet simple song structures, and they straddle the sound of ‘60s pop and modern indie rock. They’re ramshackle, but with a purpose, rowdy but thoughtful.

Of course, ask them about their songwriting and ... “We can’t divulge that information,” vocalist and guitarist Michael Chadwick says before bassist Andrew Morris chimes in, “I’ll give you three hints: Salisbury steak, rainfall, evolution.”

Though Molholt, almost taking on a role as the band’s de facto patriarch, does give an honest answer—he and Chadwick usually collaborate and bring it to the rest of the band to flesh it out—it’s the jibberish answers that give more insight into the band and its music, giving a hint to the undercurrent of mischief that infiltrates its songs.

Since forming in September 2007, and switching drummers to include current member Mike Harkness in February 2008, the Armchairs have been working on releasing an album. “We wanted to record a record before we even started,” Harkness says with a laugh. But the band has been firmly in the middle of its debut for nearly a year now, dealing with a missing engineer in the process. They began re-recording some of the tracks over the summer at University of the Arts’ Merriam Theater, and the band says they hope to have the album out early next year. It’s set to be titled Science & Advice at the urging of­—they insist this is true—Laurence Fishburne.

- Umm...Drop by Katherine Silkaitis