An Evening with Hover

Buried within the swollen sonic landscape of the “live music capital”, the 4-piece art rock powerhouse, Hover, have carved a niche in the weird hearts of the central Texas underground scene. Their unconventional, lush instrumentation and unabashed oddball tenderness build an atmosphere of pure electricity, captivating audiences with their refreshingly organic presence. Fresh off of a performance at Alchemy Records in San Marcos, Texas, violist Casey Boyer and frontman Matt Abajian discuss the state of experimental music in central Texas, the role of music in their own lives, and the vital role of intimate spaces in sustaining truly genuine art.

Q: So for one, why do you think having these smaller spaces that are more open to experimental acts? And why do you think it's important to have that in the community?

Casey: “I think it's really cool…  playing smaller DIY shows, like we've done with [Swamp House] and [Rio Market] and even like stuff like this… You play a show at Mohawk or whatever, and there's a shitload of people… [but] people don't really talk to you.”

“I feel like all the friends that I've made in the scene, I've made at… shows where the crowds are usually smaller, like [Rio Market], which is like a literal convenience store with a PA. It's more intimate and, usually, the people who show up and stick around at those are more into the music as opposed to like, ‘oh, let's go to a concert and get fucked up.’”

“Those are my favorite memories of playing.”

Matt: “Yeah. I'd say mostly the same thing. It builds that sense of community— the intimacy of shows in smaller spaces… it allows it to feel more like a social kind of interaction and less like you're watching a movie or something, on both sides [of the stage].”

“I feel like whenever we play these smaller spaces, it always feels like we're helping kind of build a community and also getting to meet a lot of like, great people and make friends and network through the scene and all of that. And that doesn't really happen that much when you're on a corporate gig.”

Casey: “I was gonna say, I feel like the music scene in Austin is, in general, kind of corporate just because you have these big booking companies like [C3], Live Nation, even Resound… they're booking everything, and it's kind of an operation. It's kind of cool to step away from that and do something a little bit more grassroots and authentic, in my opinion.”

Matt:  “I think the other thing… is that the [lineups] are typically better curated too, in my experience, because whenever you're doing community shows, it's always getting booked by somebody who just knows a lot of people already… and cares about putting on a good show in their space, as opposed to… the vibe of  ‘A, B, or C-rock- music-club in Austin is trying to stack a bill and they need four bands’, and they just kind of throw them in there. [There] just seems to be, in my experience, more of a clear intent in their booking in smaller venues.”

Q: Individually, why have each of you taken up the musician’s mantle, and how have you collectively arrived at Hover’s current sound?

Casey: “I'm a music performance major at UT in viola…  I play in the symphony orchestra six hours a week, and in the opera six hours a week. I'm…  learning Mozart and Beethoven and Bach all the time. And I love doing that—  it's like, the fundamentals of the instrument that I'm learning and trying to master and it's necessary to my education, but it's not really what I want to do artistically.”

“Playing with this band—  especially on my instrument— which is viewed by a lot of people as kind of an archaic-looking and sounding device, has been a really great outlet for me personally that's been really affirming to me and my identity. It's given me a perspective that I'm not condemned to this life of playing in a symphony, you know… so many bands still use strings, and I feel like not a lot of people really notice that or appreciate that. So it's really fun to get on stage with a rock band and play the freaking Viola like, ‘Hey, guys, you can do cool stuff with this really old instrument.’”

“And it's nice for me, especially because I teach kids and beginner orchestras sometimes. I can be like, ‘Hey, just because you're learning how to play the violin doesn't mean that you have to play all this old stuff. You can do anything you want with whatever instrument you want to play, even if it's something that was invented in the 1500s.’”

Matt: “I also went to music school, and you know, that has definitely informed what I've been doing over the last four or five years, but I've been making music with this band and writing songs for a while longer than that. I think it's a pretty therapeutic practice for me…  it has a lot to do with emotional catharsis. And then also just a lot of gear nerd-isms. And those two things kind of come together where I kind of stumble into writing… filling that in with my interest in finding sounds I’ve heard on other records. [That] drives why I make the kind of music that I do.”

“And then also, there's a huge element of the more physical catharsis of the live show. Because a lot of what I was just talking about is very internal and kind of long form. And to get that experience of reflecting on whatever it is that’s going into the song that you're making, and then have your live performances where you get to push that sort of emotion into it in a more active sense.”

“That trio of experiences of being able to work through whatever I'm going through internally, getting to scratch the itch of finding all these sounds of records that I've loved forever,  and then also getting to kind of explore that in a live setting.”

Right. And I think that exploration on stage— kind of living through your songs— is so much more poignant in an intimate setting. 

Matt: “Yes. Exactly. Like tonight, like it was just electric. And you know, you'll get up at whatever venue, and the vibes aren't there, and you don't get that same level of catharsis, even if the performance is just as good. If you don't get that kind of weird, telepathic communication with people, it doesn't turn into that emotional catharsis. And that is way more common in small spaces.”

Q: Finally, what are your thoughts on “success” in music? If you were offered an opportunity to support yourselves solely on your music, but it was contingent upon changing the sound, would you take it?

Matt: “No, I wouldn't do that. It would be tempting just for the like material element, but it would be such a self betrayal. We want to interact with people and affect people with our music and have conversations about the art that we're making with people who care about that art. That's what makes this whole thing like really, really special to me, and I wouldn't trade it for anything”

Casey: “It wouldn't feel as authentic. I feel like when you're in a band that's small and local to a certain area, there's this little thought in the back of your mind that you'll get every once in a while, like, ‘Oh, what if we make it?’ And it's something that we all have occasionally thought about. But the bottom line is, that’s not really what we want to do.”

“I don't know. Playing for even, like, 15 people at [Swamp House] at two in the morning— that is an experience that I will never forget, and [one] that I will treasure forever.”

“I've had so many people come up to me and be like, ‘Hey, this is so cool. I love what you're doing. What kind of gear do you use? What was that lyric about? Is it about this?’  And that's just, like, so special to me. And I feel like, if you're playing like a fucking stadium, like you're not gonna get that.”

Many thanks to Matt and Casey for their time and contributions.