Buffalo hardcore band Every Time I Die has survived label changes, personnel turnover, and the trails of the road to deliver the strongest album of their career – the ferocious, swinging New Junk Aesthetic.
-By John Bolster
Every Time I Die will play 30 gigs in 33 days this fall, ranging from San Francisco to New York, San Diego to Tampa, and almost all points in between. We spoke to frontman Keith Buckley before he packed up the van. He told us about bringing humor to hardcore, how a band from Buffalo can be called “Southern,” and the secrets behind a properly executed jump kick.
When you signed with Epitaph Records last year, you said you were happy for the chance to keep on making music after “existing for ten years in an environment that has chewed up and spit out most bands in a quarter of that time.” How has your band lasted ten years?
We owe our longevity to the energy of our live shows. They always deliver something new, something intimate and special. You’ve gotta give people something that they want to see, and luckily we’ve tapped into that somehow.
While many hardcore or metal bands can be rigid, even uptight, you guys bring a lot of humor and wit to your music. Was that a conscious choice?
Nah, it’s just the way we write music. You have to keep a sense of humor about things. Some hardcore or metal bands think that if you have a sense of humor it’ll undo the anger in your music. If you’re not angry all the time, then what you’re yelling on a record has no sincerity to it— I absolutely don’t believe that. Maybe we have a sense of humor about it because we understand it a little better, or from a different perspective; we try to critique it, expose it for what it really is. Whatever the topic might be.
Let’s get serious and talk about the art of the jump kick. Say I’m starting up a band. Can you give me some beginner tips on timing, execution, and style?
Well, it’s kind of like parallel parking a car—you gotta learn the dimensions of your vehicle.
[Laughs] Okay.
You gotta know how much height you’re getting. You have to know your extension: stretching that leg—good extension—is the main priority for doing a good jump kick. And finally, for some reason—I don’t know what it is—if you wear a headband, you’re guaranteed to jump higher.
You get more air with a headband?
Absolutely!
Your band is often described as having Southern-rock elements. Would you agree, and if so, how does a band from Buffalo get that tag?
Yeah, I definitely would. It’s an odd phenomenon up here in the Northeast that when you get to, like, Pennsylvania, people start having a Southern accent. I don’t understand how it works—it might be just a byproduct of rural life, where you’re out in the woods and have a lot of acres of land. My uncle was that, exactly. He had a lot of land and, growing up, we would always go to his place for bonfires. Anytime you have uncles who hunt and drink beer and sit around bonfires, chances are there’s going to be some Allman Brothers getting played.
Your band has had seven bass players in 11 years. They’re not spontaneously exploding, are they?
[Laughs] No, I don’t know what it is. I just don’t think that, up until this point, we’ve been cohesive and mentally solid. But last year, everything finally came together. This bass player [Josh Newton] was just a no-brainer; we knew him, we’d toured with him when he was in his old band [From Autumn to Ashes], and he was the perfect dude.
There’s a bonus track on the new album called “Buffalo 666.” Are you a fan of the movie Buffalo 66?
Oh, yeah, definitely.
How ’bout the Bills?
I’m kind of a fair-weather fan of the Bills, but I don’t really like the sport in general. Though living in Buffalo, it’s such an experience to go to a game—it’s pretty fun to be a part of. But I’m not gonna kill myself if they miss another big field goal.
Or shoot the kicker.
Yeah, exactly.
Buffalo is legendary for its winters. Can you give me your best “it’s so fucking cold” story from Buffalo?
I can give you a “I can’t believe how much it’s fucking snowing” story: We got hit with a blizzard in November about seven or eight years ago. I was at the University of Buffalo, and they’re like, “All right, all classes are canceled, there’s a huge storm coming in, you gotta get home.” It was only a 15-minute drive to my house, but about ten minutes in, I just couldn’t see anymore. So I’m like, “Fuck it,” and I drove my car to the side of the road and walked the rest of the way. Then my roommates and I put on snowboarding gear and went out in the storm, and started pushing cars out of the snow for money and booze. We walked around all night with a bottle of whiskey to keep warm and got paid to push cars out of the snow. It was fuckin’ awesome.
