Shance Schuch had a choice to make in 2008 when Joey Bruce — the singer for his band, Mouse Fire — decided to hang it up to focus on taking care of his family. The band was signed to tastemaking Louisiana indie label Lujo Records (Pomegranates, Look Mexico), and its debut album, Wooden Teeth, was abuzz online, where critics praised a marriage of emo, catchy pop and noisy experimental sounds. Mouse Fire never really toured behind the album, but it still had music to make.
So Schuch, who went to high school in Tampa before heading to Lakeland and eventually St. Pete, stepped up the mic. His confessional lyricism and penchant for exploring dance-music riffs would become the centerpoint of Mouse Fire’s sophomore LP, Big Emotion, which it released in 2010. Filled with strings, disco rhythms, bells, horns and gorgeous pop piano, Emotion was a Sunshine State gem that no one could figure out. Critics across the web (this was the MySpace days) compared Mouse Fire to a myriad of artists including Modest Mouse, Panic! At the Disco, Air Supply, Chicago and even Hall & Oates. Schuch (pronounced “shook”) and his bandmates — bassist Justin Cason and drummer Aaron Venrick — toured the country behind that LP, sacrificing everything (even the tiny apartment they rented together) to take their music on the road.
“Mouse Fire ate up nearly all of my 20s and was one of those projects that solidified my identity,”’ Schuch, 36, told CL. “I didn't want [it] to end, but after seven years, a few member changes, shifting styles, and six months on the road supporting our second album, we were spent.” He would spend time playing in several different bands (rap project Futureman, Davy and the Gods, Deluxe) and even toured with Automatic Loveletter as a bassist, but life had other plans as it presented hurdle after hurdle for Schuch.
"I have done many creative endeavors in my life and I always come back to music. When I die, I'll know I did what I was meant to do."
“ A lot of ‘grownup’ stuff seemed to steal my attention and energy away from seriously pursuing my next project,” Schuch explained. “Come to find out, as hard as that time was, I needed it. I needed those experiences to grow up in ways I hadn't known.”
That new project made its live debut in October, and Pajamas has spent the last seven months reintroducing Schuch to audiences who’ve embraced an infectious poptronic sound and engaging live show where Schuch mans the MIDIs, guitar, laptop and vocals all by his lonesome. Pajamas (along with Fr33dback) may be one of the best new electronic acts the Bay area has spawned in years.
A debut EP — Smile Lines — saw release in March, full of body-positive messages (“Smile Lines”), sultry pleas for love (“We Can’t Be Friends”) and dance floor-ready anthems (“Beauty Sleep”). Schuch has tapped a roster of talented friends to play the official release show at Paper Crane, an intimate space where a two-stage setup will encourage attendees to explore one of the most unique venues in St. Pete (Cure-esque experimental goth-pop outfit Chain of Flowers, thousands of miles away from their UK home, opted to play at Paper Crane in January, spurning more traditional venues that could’ve hosted the show).
The carefully curated event — complete with a Yakitori menu by BCA.BBQ — is a reflection of Schuch’s unwavering, unavoidable attention to detail, which he shows off on Smile Lines (and a yet-to-be-released, Depeche Mode-channeling social commentary, “Red State”). The effort even bucks standard pop-music constraints to let sound stretch out on songs like five-and-a-half-minute EP highlight “Touch the Stars,” in which eerie synth lines dance alongside pulsating bass and a stripped-back drum track.
“I used to be all about cutting the fat till you had a lean, three-minute-thirty-second song. I've come to like that fat — now it stays,” Schuch said. It’s fitting for a guy who’s fully obliged every call from a muse that’s been chasing him for as long as he can remember. At times the muse even got in the way of him seeing his family. Schuch said he had many sleepless, tear-filled nights on those Mouse Fire tours as he wondered about his daughter (who was about eight when Big Emotion came out) growing up while he was on the road.
“My daughter is my inspiration. She is my fuel,” he said about those lonely evenings alone, adding that he leans on her these days to tell her when his songs are good. Schuch says he has another EP to release this year, and he’s been producing songs for other local acts. He’s not sure where the energy or sense of urgency exactly comes from (“maybe my years managing kitchens”), but he knows it won’t be around forever. He says the passing of days makes him tend to work harder and do more, and that he’s fighting like hell to keep making music in a world that can be hard to survive in.
“To persevere even when you are tapped out is the truest way to achieve your goals, and I haven’t achieved mine yet,” Shuch said, admitting the he isn’t immune to inner voices asking him if he’s wasting his time and life.
“I always come back to the answer being ‘No’ — How can any contribution to society be a waste of time? Even if it were a waste, it’s all I want to do. I have done many creative endeavors in my life and I always come back to music. When I die, I'll know I did what I was meant to do.”
Listen to Smile Lines, and read our full Q&A with Schuch, below. Call your local record store to see if they'll carry the release, and get more information on the show via local.cltampa.com.
Born on June 1, 1980?
At Tampa General.
Grew up in Tampa, but lived in Lakeland? I saw you went to Gaither, so did you grow up in Carrollwood? Is that where you would practice at mom’s place?
I grew up in South Tampa, went to Plant High School. Moved to North Tampa and went to Gaither High School. I lived in Lakeland briefly from ‘97-2000. I was in a band named Delivery Boy and eventually joined a band named SaGoh24-7 which were both based out of Polk County. I moved back to Tampa to start a family, later moving back to Lakeland mid ‘00s, later moving to St. Pete and sticking with it.
Mouse Fire, The Same, Automatic Loveletter, Davy and the Gods, Futureman, Deluxe. What other Bay area bands were you in?
The bands I was in, going way back, Delivery Boy, SaGoh 24-7 (turned into Anberlin), Mouse Fire, Futureman, Davy and The Gods, Deluxe, Automatic Loveletter (more of a hired gun than a member) and now Pajamas.
How did you end up in St. Pete? Just from knowing some people in town and laying your head there after tours, right?
Yes, I sort of "discovered" St. Petersburg by crashing with my then girlfriend after long tours with Mouse Fire. Growing up just across the bridge, I had never spent much time out that way. I was instantly attracted to the budding artistic energy of the town. I had found a home in the city of St. Petersburg.
Fast forward to now. You hustle to make it all work. What are all the projects not called Pajamas that you are a part of?
Fast forward to now, the other day, my mother says, "You have a lot of energy," and I replied with, "I'm just trying to get as much done everyday as I can." I have a constant sense of urgency. It could be from my many years working in/managing kitchens or could just be my hunger for success. I believe it’s a bit a both. Besides Pajamas, I have produced a few tunes with some local acts. I'm really excited about another possible project with two of my closest friends, who happen to be engaged to each other. I wish I had more to say about it, but it’s in an infancy state. We demoed a song though and it's a total hit.
You talked about some tear-filled, sleepless nights away from your daughter when you toured behind Big Emotion. She was five was Wooden Teeth came out and then about eight when Big Emotion hit. How does her presence in your life affect Pajamas music, if at all?
My daughter is my inspiration. She is my fuel. Besides my own desire to achieve my goals since a young man, the moment she came along, I wanted it for her. I think to myself, “What would I do with my first wave of success?,” and it's easy: I'd put money away for her education and the beginning of her adult life, buy my mom a house on the beach and fill her bank account, buy myself and girlfriend a home, pay off any debts, pay off cars, invest, flip homes, start a studio, live simply and within my means. Malibu (my daughter) has always had great taste in music so when she would say, "I love this song, dad" I knew maybe there was something there. She knows whats up.
All creative people seemingly go through this thing where they wonder if what they are doing matters. In talking to you, even when you were creatively tapped, it seemed like you always believed is this thing that you are doing (making music, being creative). Was there every any quit impulse in you? If so, how do you overcome that?
I fight like hell to keep my music alive in this crazy world. Everyday, I tackle a myriad of challenges and checklists. To persevere even when you are tapped out is the truest way to achieve your goals. I haven't achieved mine yet, but I'm fighting like hell to do so. I wonder constantly, "Am I wasting my time, my life?," and I always come back to the answer being no. How can any contribution to society be a waste of time? Even if it were a waste, it’s all I want to do. I have done many creative endeavors in my life and I always come back to music. When I die, I'll know I did what I was meant to do.”
Smile Lines is only four songs long, but feels like we’ve spent a meaningful amount of time together after even the first listen. Is there a conscious effort to make sure you give the songs their space? It feels like so many people are trying to squeeze their song into three minutes and thirty seconds, but you say ‘nah’ on this one.
I honestly never know what's going to happen when I take time to write. I pick up an instrument — bass, guitar or synth — and play around till something, whether it be tone or riff, sticks out, creates a spark. Then I build. I've always considered myself more of a musician/producer than a singer. This means vocals come dead last about 99% of the time, for me. Singing is only about necessity. I'd like people to be able to sing along, so I write melodies that I'm comfortable with. It was the hardest thing to do: to become a singer. I will never consider myself a singer. I'm a producer who sings.
As far as space, I really like letting the song speak, and I'm a total hound for pop-structure: intro, verse, bridge, chorus, second verse, bridge, chorus, interlude, double chorus on the end, fade out. I can't help myself! I basically just gave you my formula for Pajamas. The secret is out. But, I used to be all about cutting the fat till you had a lean, three-minute 30-second long song. I've come to like that fat. Now it stays.
It’s been half a decade since Mouse Fire, why the comeback as Pajamas?
Mouse Fire ate up nearly all of my 20ss and was one of those projects that solidified my identity. I didn't want Mouse Fire to end, but after seven years, a few member changes, shifting styles, and six months on the road supporting our second album, we were spent: Mouse Fire was dead.
Music has always been a savior-of-sorts for me, so I assumed I'd hop into something instantly, and there were a few startups that fizzled out (Futureman, Davy and the Gods, Deluxe), but time and life had other plans, lots of hurdles and hang ups. It was my 20s all over again. Pajamas was inevitable for me, but I hadn't a clue then of it's future manifestation. A lot of "grown up" stuff seemed to steal my attention and energy away from seriously pursuing my next project. And, to be honest, what would it sound like? I wasn't sure.
Come to find out, as hard as that time was, I needed it. I needed those experiences to grow-up in ways I hadn't known. If anything, it may have given more substance to my lyrics, since I'm literally writing what I know. I had always had a poetic mind (on paper) and open heart, but on Mouse Fire's second record, Big Emotion, when I took over as singer, I learned that I had no clue on how to transform my life lessons into meaningful lyrics. The melodies were fun and came out after many moons of pulling my hair out, but the lyrical content, to me, was flabby.
Scroll to six years later, where life seemed to almost say, "How badly do you want to do this”" on a daily basis, meant that I had to want it more than I had ever wanted music in my life, and it meant I would have to work my ass off for it, and I would have to make ever more difficult sacrifices towards family, friends, jobs, health, etc.
The future would be uncertain, but that is how I'm making something out of nothing, I believe. Pajamas was inevitable, but nothing short of a miracle. I'm tired. But, I've got another EP in the pipeline. I'm not slipping through the cracks anytime soon.
You’ve had a chance to play these songs for a quite a few audiences. Do they evolve after being released on the record?
I haven't noticed any evolutions of the songs since their conception, but I have noticed what people respond to, so I take that to heart for future productions. I've always imagined Pajamas to become a group, and if that ever happened, I'd like to make longer drawn-out musical parts that we can riff on that you might not hear on the album. I've always enjoyed when a band could execute that well.
Can we talk about some of the specs on the record as far as recording, mastering, mixing dates and locations go?
As far as making the record, I must have written around a dozen songs during the beginning of 2016. The first song I wrote that I knew would be on the record, and became a template for the sound, was “Touch the Stars.” The final three songs were all written near the end of this heavy songwriting period. Each one sort of led to the next.
Smile Lines, the EP, was born. And, at that time, I didn't know the name would be Pajamas. I recorded all parts in my office on the same old gear I used to write the demos for the two Mouse Fire albums. I sent it off to my friend Matt Reisinger, aka Fr33dback, and he did a wonderful job of mixing this little record. I couldn't have been happier with how it turned out and the friendship we've cultivated through our working together. He then sent it off to Lee Dyess for mastering. I didn't know Lee personally, but I heard Fr33dback's EP and it was so clean. They both did an excellent job. I baked the cake, Matt iced it, Lee put the sprinkles on top. Now people are eating the cake.
What’s next over the next year for you?
I'll be releasing a single called "Red State." It'll be download and streaming only and I'll be donating proceeds to Planned Parenthood. It's aligned to release around an event I'll be contributing art to in honor of Planned Parenthood, something organized by Good Deeds St. Pete.
And, as far as another record, I've already selected the next four tunes to finalize to release another EP later this year. I'm really excited about the direction this project has bloomed. I may be going a bit hard right now, but I don't know what else to do. As time goes by, with no guarantee of tomorrow, I tend to work harder and do more, until it’s time for wine. Then it's time for wine.
You mentioned a new EP later this year. Is the music still coming at a pretty quick pace? Are you consciously trying to evolve each song or just kind of being very respectful to the muse by capturing it when it hits?
Yes, I already have the next four tunes picked out and I'm currently finishing each one, little by little, week by week. I'm aiming for a release later this year. I feel fortunate in the sense that nearly every time I sit with my gear and start fiddling around, something pops out. It's not always like finding gold, but it's a good practice.
You do it often enough to where your palate and ear know what they're looking for and the finding gold happens more often than not. With that said, I explore until something really strikes my fancy, then I elaborate. The sound is pretty much an extension of Smile Lines, maybe because they were born so closely or maybe it’s just the sound I’m into right now. Either way, I feel fortunate to have the gift of melody come to visit me often, and I'm forever grateful for the way my mind was put together, loose screws and all.
I know you did Futureman as a joke, but did it teach you anything important about music or yourself?
Futureman started as a joke, but my friends seemed to like it, so I started performing out and the reaction was unexpected. First off, being on stage with just a microphone and MP3 player is terrifying. I had never been so nervous, but it worked out and showed me that I could captivate my audience with a lyrical onslaught. Fast forward to the idea of beginning Pajamas, a solo electronic outfit, I believe the Futureman days gave me the courage to hop on stage solo but with a sound I could stand by for ages. I didn't intend to become an electronic act, it just sort of happened. I've always had a love for synth, and with Pajamas, I felt it was the perfect time to utilize them as often as possible. Instead of guitar riffs, I gravitate towards synth. But, I do find myself in a purgatory of genre, because I'll never delete guitars fully, or riffy bass lines to be fully electronic in tones. I love new wave and could never abandon that chorus filled, reverbed out clean guitar tone! I do however allow the song to bloom on its own, so if it's leaning more towards fully being electronically toned, so be it.
The riff on “We Can’t Be Friends” — how do you make that melody? From idea in your head to the actual execution on record and live?
“We Can't Be Friends” was one of the last songs written for the EP, and I'm glad it popped out when it did. It gave me a chance to be honest during a very difficult time after losing my job of three years. It was a creative job and I was sort of losing my cool, arguing with my girlfriend over stupid things, all because I had lost my financial foundation. However difficult, losing that job opened up the opportunity to focus on music a good bit more, leading to the birth of Pajamas. Vocally, it's probably the best melody I've ever written, and it was probably the easiest because I just followed the synth riff I wrote.
You’ve said that you consider yourself a producer and never a singer, but that voice in Pajamas songs is a necessity. What is it about the human voice that your songs can’t live without?
I suppose I have become more of a singer than I originally thought. The human voice adds the character. The music is sort of the landscape, the overall energy, the feel. The vocal is the identifier. I'm a sucker for pop elements and a great vocal line is like a dagger to the heart that I actually welcome.
Do you think you’ll ever put out instrumental music?
I don't think I'd ever put out instrumental music. It's something I have never thought of. If I did, I'd probably spend a lot of time creating grander landscapes of sound, slower builds, tons of layers, maybe some simplicity, some ambience, who knows. It is something to think about, but for now, I'm in indie-pop land.
When asked about letting your songs abandon the three minute, thirty second structure, you mentioned that you’ve come to “like the fat.” Talk about what excites you about living in those parts of the songs. What are you finding there that you can’t cut from the tape?
I've learned to let the song be. To let the song mature as it sees fit. Some are basic in structure and are short little bangers. Others, want time to breathe. A new song I just wrote, and will be debuting at the album release party, is called “Dance On The Sun” and its close to six minutes long. I think listening to it though, it doesn't feel that long. Plus, for those who like to shake their groove thang, by leaving "the fat", they have a chance to get into the driving arpeggiated rhythms of the bass and drums or whatever the case may be. I listen to a fair amount of New Order and I admire the way they could keep me interested in a dance style tune for upwards of five to six minutes, sometimes longer. But, I never force it. The songs reveal themselves.
This article appears in May 4-11, 2017.