Sean Scolnick knew from an early age that he would one day migrate from the small town to the big city. He also knew that eventually, like so many musicians who came before him, he would adopt an alias. "I wanted to go to New York and be a big star," says the 28-year-old troubadour. "And I was gonna figure out a different name than Sean Scolnick one way or another." So when he moved to Brooklyn by way of SUNY Purchase—where he went to class with Regina Spektor and Dan Deacon—Scolnick took the name of his hometown in Pennsylvania and made it his own, then beefed it up by slimming it down. Thus, Langhorne Slim was born.
In 2004 when he was preparing to record his first album, the guitar-strumming singer-songwriter asked Grizzly Bear's Chris Taylor if he knew of session players for hire. Taylor introduced him to drummer Malachi DeLorenzo and bassist Paul Defiglia. The pair filled out Slim's sparse, country-and-blues-infused folk, sweetly embellishing his quiet ballads and fueling his barn-burners with more urgency.
By the time the album was finished, the one-man show had become a trio-Langhorne Slim & the War Eagles. "I decided it was a lot more fun playing with them than doing it by myself," recalls Scolnick.
Two years after joining forces, the band signed a deal with V2 when the company flew the band to Chicago to record some demos. They went into the studio and came out with an album full of raucous sing-alongs and soulful love songs. Unfortunately, before the tracks saw the light of day, the label went under. "It was tough at the time," recalls Scolnick. "But I think it proved to be a good thing in the end. Since V2 was a bigger label, I don't know if we would have gotten the attention or enthusiasm that I feel like we're getting right now with Kemado."
Kemado, who signed the band at the beginning of 2008, released their long-awaited eponymous album last April. Since then Langhorne Slim & the War Eagles have been on the road nearly non-stop.
We caught up with Slim behind the wheel, driving his two bandmates from Montana to Minnesota. He spoke about lazy comparisons, sad songs and a famous talk show host that couldn't be bothered.
Certain tracks on the new album remind me somewhat of 2007's "The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter," which was recorded at the same studio (the Great North Sound Society) with the same producer (Sam Kassirer). Did you intentionally want your album to sound like Josh Ritter?
No. In fact, we recorded our album with Sam before Josh did, back when we were with V2. I have heard comparisons to Josh with this new album, but other than knowing his name I had no idea what his music even sounded like. It's always sort of interesting when that happens-when you get compared to people who are playing at the same time. Obviously if you get compared to some old, famous person, you know his music.
So do you get compared to old, famous musicians often?
Yeah, but I think they're lazy comparisons. There are certainly a few legendary characters...
Like who?
Let me spin that to you—who would you think?
Well, there's something in your voice that reminds me of Cat Stevens.
(Laughing) That's my favorite one, for sure. I used to get that occasionally, and for whatever reason—the new record probably—I'm hearing it more and more now. But certainly I don't want people to think I'm copying. I want to be my own person.
After playing around New York for so long, did it give you a feeling of "I've made it!" when you played David Letterman this spring?
It was definitely a landmark, like if you get to play "Saturday Night Live." After we did it, at least for a while, it's almost like you get taken more seriously as a band. I was really proud that my mom could be there. It's something more tangible, like, ‘Okay, my son is really doing it.' But it's something that I don't want to look back on in twenty years and be like, ‘I did Letterman once.' I want to keep it going.
Did he say anything funny to you?
No, we didn't meet him at all. He came over and shook our hands afterwards, but that was the extent of it. I was sort of in another world, from being nervous, and I didn't remember that he'd shaken my hand—I thought he had skipped me. So when he turned to walk back to his chair, I tapped him on the shoulder—I don't think many people do that—and said, ‘I just want to say thank you so much.' He looked back, almost scared, and said, ‘You're welcome' and just walked away.
