Memphis-based (sort of) indie band Beauty School recently released the hypnotic single “Zeroform.” The band’s work has impressed this listener before, and “Zeroform” is no exception. The single is lush, layered with guitar riffs, claps, effect-laden kazoo, and backing vocals. The effect is never overwhelming or cluttered, though, as the different instrumental and vocal tracks weave in and out of Dan Hornsby’s vocal melody.
As to the “sort of” Memphis-based band — the members of Beauty School hail from cities around the Mid-South. Wherever the parts were recorded, though, “Zeroform” is indisputably catchy — and the song’s genesis is owed to more somber circumstances than are immediately apparent. At least, if the listener gets lost in the melody, as I did. I spoke with Beauty School members Kristin Henry and Dan Hornsby about the track.
Memphis Flyer: How did the band form? Did you all start in Memphis and then some members moved?
Kristin Henry: The three of us met in college, at Kansas State University. We have been playing together since then, under various names and with the help of many friends along the way. We started as a three-piece, practicing in Dan’s dorm room for shows at the local coffee shops; and over time expanded to a five-piece, hosting house shows for touring artists coming through Kansas. Like most small bands, we have always been scrappy (booking our own tours in college, learning how to record ourselves and other local bands, figuring out how to get our songs to people as physical albums have become trickier to put out), so it only made sense that we’d keep making music together even after we all moved to different parts of the country. We’ve been workshopping the process for nearly nine years now, and over the past couple of years, it feels that we’ve really found the remote music collaboration sweet spot. Nowadays we’re a trio again (Dan holds it down in Memphis, and John [Goddard] and I live in Nashville and New Orleans, respectively), but we have a big Beauty School extended family of musicians who might join for a track or a string of shows. It’s always magical when we can get together and practice or play live — but being able to effectively collaborate together in between those times has been a game-changer. “Zeroform” is a perfect example of this — the song was hyper-collaborative but composed and recorded with all of us in entirely different cities.
MF: You’re working to record an album — can you tell me a little about that? Is the new song an advance single from the album? Was it recorded separately?
Dan Hornsby: Because of the pandemic, and also because of the kind of exhaustion that
comes from trying to record and polish 10 songs in a batch, we decided that we would trickle out songs as singles for a while and see if an album could naturally grow out of a couple of them. I think we all wanted something a little more out there. Kristin has a really strong weird pop sensibility, and John, our bass player, lives for tight grooves. I love Prince to the point of idolatry (I did my best attempt at a Princely solo at the end of “Zeroform”), so that’s a no-brainer. The songs started talking to each other out the gate. For this record, I really want something that at least aspires to the effects of lyrics I love by John Prine or Adrianne Lenker (not that I can reach that, it’s just a goal), but with textures and grooves of people like Cocteau Twins, Kate Bush, and Robert Wyatt. Right now we’re sitting on about 10 total, in different states of completion, with Zach Mitchell of Big Clown—a future legendary Memphis band, in my opinion—playing on a few tracks, too. We’re hoping to drop it by the end of the year or early next year.
MF: Can you tell me a little about what “Zeroform” is about?
DH: My wife got really badly burned at the beginning of the year (third degree in some places, it was utterly terrifying) and had to go to the burn ward at Regional One (right next to the Elvis Presley Trauma Center, which we namecheck in the song). Once Kristin and her friend Victoria laid down those amazing vocal textures, I started writing this song from the place where I was, dealing with what it’s like to see someone you love suffer. Zeroform is this futuristic substance we had to apply to the wounds for about five weeks. I like that it had “zero” and “form” in it, so I drizzled in some stuff I learned while researching negative theology, ways to think about an unknowable God (which helped me think about addressing unknowable suffering). Bright nights, rays of darkness — I filched those from guys who’ve been dead for hundreds of years. I don’t think they’ll mind.
MF: I love all the layers. This song sounds so lush. Can you talk a bit about the instrumentation?
KH: We were all really digging this song by Cornelius called “Drop.” The layering in the song gives you this feeling of being surrounded by a wall of loveliness, while also underwater, and it just has the coolest beat. We wanted to do something evoking that same layered, enveloping feeling. Dan put together the beat and guitar part to start with and I got together with my friend Victoria in New Orleans for a morning of music experimentation. I have been learning how to use a loop pedal, so we put Dan’s track on the pedal and started laying down layers till we found something we liked. We added the kazoo as a melodic element over the top, to bridge the space between vocal parts. I love the kazoo because it becomes kind of unidentifiable when you start to add effects to it — but also because it’s so effortless to play. One of the extra fun parts about making this song is how transformed it was between each person that touched it. Once Dan wrote and recorded the lyrics, and John added the bass, it transformed from this fuzzy, song-like jam to a song that had real emotion and depth.
