Tempting Fame

Circa Survive's Anthony Green seeks calm before the storm with his solo debut, Avalon.

by A.D. Amorosi

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Published: Jul 29, 2008

Emily Shur GREEN FUTURE: "Nowhere on my agenda is the need to be famous," says the 26-year-old singer-songwriter. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Anthony Green's rep is such that when you hear his name, you nod in approval.

What Roots godfather Ahmir Thompson is to hip-hop, Green is to local progressive punk — a good housekeeping seal.

Hearing his hard, high voice and psyche-baring lyrics within the framework of bands such as Saosin, Audience of One and, more recently, Circa Survive, makes you forget their dreaded "emo" tag.

Green is untaggable.

"I'd like to consider myself a jack-of-all-trades," says Green with a laugh from his home in Doylestown.

The five-piece Circa Survive makes swelling rock that's delicate yet epic — densely swinging stuff with rich dynamics. Smart punk rarely gets better.

But that old trope, "do one thing well"? Green's not having it. "I wouldn't wanna be doing one thing, one style, forever," says Green. He doesn't care if a song has an epic might or if it's simple and non-descript. "It's about hearing a song and loving it."

This makes the prospect of his solo debut, Avalon, an exciting one. It finds the 26-year-old experimenting with music that's stripped down sonically, with softer, sparer production values and straight-ahead texts rather than the private symbol-laden lyrics of Circa Survive. It also finds Green loving something more than a song. Avalon's most potent tunes — "She Loves Me So," the Cure-like "Baby Girl" — sing loudly the adoration Green has for his wife, Meredith.

Forget about what Green loves. Talk about how it is we've come to love him.

Born in the suburb of Holland, Pa., Anthony is the nephew of Bill Green, ex-mayor of Philadelphia (1980-84). While Anthony does talk to his uncle often and is close with his family (including a cousin in City Council), he'd rather not talk about his political opinions.

He'll talk about his time in Saosin — the poised-for-greatness murky nu-metal act from California that he joined in 2003 and left in 2004. He's gone on record as saying that he came to hate their music, his life and his writing during his tenure.

"I left because I didn't want to write under their circumstances," says Green without saying much more. "I don't know if I'm making more sense or writing clearer now, but I'm happier with what I'm writing." Like quitting Saosin, taking a break from Circa Survive (he's not leaving the band; they're his best friends) after touring — with My Chemical Romance — throughout 2007 on the heels of the well-received On Letting Go seems like commercial suicide. As if Green's eschewing next-level fame.

"But everyone's got different definitions about what success means to them, and I seem to constantly redefine it for myself," says Green. "Nowhere on my agenda is the need to be famous."

Green's objective is to get as close as he can to harmony, "to ascertaining creative truth." To this listener, Avalon does that in quiet fashion. It's tantalizingly personal, a supple pause in the action rather than a grand solo statement — the eye of the hurricane. When Circa Survive makes its next record, it'll be huge in sound, sales and influence. Green knows it. "Whether I like or not, CS is an unstoppable monster. It'll devour all five of us, ripped apart piece by piece and shat back out, mangled and stinking."

Until then, Avalon speaks softly but carries a big, sticky, lovely mess with it.

Recorded by the beach in New Jersey with his childhood pals in Good Old War (who've got their own buoyant debut, Only Way To Be Alone, due soon) Green's lyrics for Avalon have a personal edge for a simple reason. "I wasn't writing for five dudes," he says.

The calm of Avalon — the shore town whose motto is "cooler by a mile" — and its desolate winter offered Green the solitude necessary for a thoughtful solo effort. "But it also had an overwhelming feeling of liveliness, strangely enough, down there that set the tone for writing a less heavy record."

That's probably why Green's sonorous wail seems to laugh across each song, be it ruminative ("Dear Child") or playful ("Springtime out the Van Window"). The tale of an artist's fate that is "Devil's Song," and its escapist sister-song "The First Day of Work at the Microscope Store," touch on themes about Circa's success, but in ways that harshly pit aesthetic value against commerce and fame. No matter how grim the fates, his voice brims with glee throughout. It's like he's giggling through the apocalypse.

"Whenever I sing 'I am only truly happy if she loves me so,' I feel like I'm going to explode in a thousand little pieces full of joy," says Green. "The same thing with the line in 'Devil's Song' where I say, 'This feels like a nightmare that we're all in.' Knowing that you can share your feelings creatively with everyone and make sense of them is like a creative orgasm. Whenever I sing I feel like a totally different person — someone fearless."

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)

Anthony Green, Good Old War and Person L (Kenneth Vasoli from The Starting Line) play Wed., Aug. 6, 7:30 p.m., $12, Starlight Ballroom, 460 N. Ninth St., 866-468-7619, r5productions.com.

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