Death of a Salesman
Death of a Salesman
They don't mince words, even if those words come out cryptically, and they seem ready to spout whatever comes to mind. They _ Prin especially _ react to questions they don't particularly like. Call them ``real'' or perhaps immaturely blunt, it depends on how you look at it, but the first thing Death of a Salesman would like to clear up is a misunderstanding concerning the band's origin _ you just can't go around getting their details mixed up, all right? ``We went to the same kindergarten, yes. And we mentioned it to some people, and the next thing we knew, everyone was saying we were childhood friends. It wasn't like that,'' Prin said. The friendship came about much later, after they stopped wearing diapers and sucking on bottles, and began attending university.
Chaturavidh, who fell in love with music as a child, always wanted to have a band of his own, so when he got to Assumption University, he began to make his dream come true. A mutual friend directed him to Prin, a competent guitarist in his own right, who had played in bands during high school. It was a perfect match, as they say. ``I didn't have any technical skills when it came to music. I only had sounds swirling in my head. But Prin was a skilful musician, so when we met, it was very fulfilling for us both,'' said Chaturavudh, a master's degree student in England. Prin then started to rehearse with Chaturavidh's band.
From a five-strong group, they slimmed down to the Death of a Salesman duo. ``It wasn't easy having five people in one band. We felt that the two of us together could best maximise our potential,'' said vocalist/guitarist Chaturavidh. They settled on the name Death of a Salesman (after a friend's suggestion) without having read the Arthur Miller play of the same name. ``Is it any good?'' they asked, deadpan. Listening to the smallroom label's smallroom:001 compilation sparked their desire to put their music out in front of the public on that label, so they simply walked in one day, handed a demo to the folks at smallroom, and landed themselves a record deal. The high-tech, computer-driven production process was a whole new ball game.
``All our raw materials were rearranged through computers ... So sometimes we felt like our original, raw and pure emotions just sort of disappeared,'' said Prin. Chaturavidh was a trifle more positive on the matter. ``The process was meant to unfold [our work] into a universal language, since if it were too personal, no one would have understood it.'' ``Well, if we could go back and redo it, I guess it would still come out the same, since we had no time and we just wanted to make it happen so badly,'' Prin added. Death of a Salesman have managed to bring their primitive ``emotions'' back into the mix through their live performances, which are raw, loud and pretty much distorted, giving a new perspective on the slick, carefully crafted album. ``The album sort of miscommunicates in some points, so the complete band on-stage really fills up those emotional voids. Playing live is like displaying the [big] picture,'' Prin said. Their showcases are normally energy-charged affairs, with Chaturavidh staggering around with his acoustic guitar and Prin immersed in his own world, producing a touch of detachment that leaves a strangely satisfying aftertaste. Yet there are bound to be some fans who would prefer the polished versions of the album to the live performances. ``Honestly, it's okay.
We get to fill in whatever we deem missing. Art is very intangible so it's up to you and your heart,'' Prin said. Can listeners and admirers alike expect a new album anytime soon? ``We don't know what's going to happen next. We don't even want to say that there will be another album,'' he said. Let's hope and see, then. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply..
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