Wired For Sound

Fishtown's Free Energy makes a connection.

by K. Ross Hoffman

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Published: May 25, 2010

IT'S ELECTRIC: Free Energy is (L-R): Nick Shuminsky, Paul Sprangers, Scott Wells and Geoff Bucknum.

[ rock/bang/pop ]

Nikola Tesla has been called "the father of free energy" for his utopic (but ostensibly viable) scheme for worldwide wireless power transmission. Wittingly or not, sparky Fishtown-based rock 'n' rollers Free Energy seem like Tesla's spiritual sons, poised and fully capable of completing the inventor's vision of global electrification, with nothing more than blazing power-pop riffage, dream-kissed classic rock vibes and heart-searing lyrics — hell, even song titles: "Dream City," "Young Hearts," "Light Love," "Hope Child" — testifying to the boundless potential of youth and joy and (brotherly) love.

At least, it all feels entirely feasible while you're listening to their pop-perfect DFA debut, Stuck on Nothing, whose title nicely sums up its infectious sense of limitless possibility. Actually, the band was stuck on something when I chatted with lead singer Paul Sprangers last week — their tour van, en route to a gig in Maine, had just caught a flat — but it hardly seemed to deflate his spirits.

Minnesota transplant Sprangers was stuck on nothing but love and enthusiasm for his adopted city and home for the past two years: "I love Philly, man! No one even knows why they love Philly, but everybody does." And for the ongoing adventure of growing and learning as a performing musician: "Every night is a chance to get better. I feel like there's so much to learn and figure out, and you can only do that by doing it. ... I'm happy to be humbled and play to nobody, because I know it's part of the process." And for the classic '70s and '80s rockers — Thin Lizzy and Cheap Trick turn up regularly in reviews, though Sprangers is more apt to namecheck Fleetwood Mac and Bruce Springsteen — that so palpably inform his band's sound: "We're not being tongue-in-cheek or insecure about [these influences]; we're not saying 'look how dumb this is.' This is stuff that we absolutely love and are currently obsessed with."

His hint of defensiveness there is unwarranted, given how clearly their wide-eyed passion comes through in the grooves, but it's true that a genuine love for the music has hardly deterred the band from embracing the kitschier, potentially irony-laden aspects of their chosen aesthetic, from sleeveless tees and shaggy hair to the airbrushed hi-top on the cover of their album (which is, kind of awesomely, available on cassette — it's been living in my tape deck for weeks) and the technicolor Rock'n'Roll High School-pastiche video for their deliciously giddy bubble-gum single "Bang Pop" (shot at a Bucks County middle school, with a cast of fans rounded up at the Rittenhouse Urban Outfitters).

Typically, Sprangers shrugs off concerns about retro pigeonholing — "I don't care about a band having a throwback sound or not. When you hear the music, you hear the music" — and is up front but humbly untroubled by the anxiety of influence: "We're not good enough to rip people off," he says with a laugh. "In some ways we are trying to, asking ourselves, what would the Boss do, or what would Lindsey Buckingham do. We aim to use blueprints and formulas that other geniuses have used in the past, but we're not professional enough to pull it off completely. As far as I'm concerned, we can try to rip off the Boss but we'll still come off sounding like ourselves."

He does admit to some discomfort around the deliberately hokey, unabashed earnestness that the band projects, in both sound and sentiment. Although he emphatically admires and delights in the cheese factor in other artists' work — be they chestnuts like Boston or contemporaries like Yeasayer — Sprangers confesses: "With our stuff, I'm like, 'Is that OK? Is that just cheesy or lame?' It feels unnatural, 'cause I'm a wimp, and it can be scary to do stuff that feels so corny. But going to those places that you think are uncomfortable — that's interesting to me; that's a challenge, and it feels good to do. It's a 'feel the burn'-type thing."

So does he really mean all those sappy, starry-eyed things he sings? "I don't know if I do. I definitely believed them when I wrote them — the first time I came up with 'Dream City' it was totally cheesy, but past that point it's all fine: I totally believe that idea, and I think it's a really good lyric. But I don't know if I'm thinking about it every time I sing. On stage you get into a zone. ... Ideally, you'd be totally present with every moment — I feel like that would take so much energy, which is incredible, and that needs to be there. But there's this other aspect of it — you're not there to get wrapped up in yourself. You're there to connect to the audience: The music's made for everybody."

(k_hoffman@citypaper.net)

Free Energy plays Fri., May 28, 7:30 p.m., $10-$12, with Jukebox the Ghost and Miniature Tigers, First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., 877-435-9849, r5productions.com.

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