Gus Carrington and
Daniel Wasmund (Photo: Michael Donahue)
You’ve got to love a band named “The Stupid Reasons.”
That’s the duo that features Gus Carrington, 29, on guitar and Daniel Wasmund, 29, on drums. They’re working on a new album, Through to You, at Easley McCain Recording.
The band name comes from one of Carrington’s old journal entries: “Well, you need to do whatever it is that makes you happy. Whether playing video games or watching stupid movies, you have to find stupid reasons to be happy.”
Carrington used the stage name The Stupid Reasons when he played solo gigs at singer-songwriter nights.
It’s always been music for Carrington. “My parents have footage of me standing at point-blank range staring at the TV screen at the Beatles movie, Yellow Submarine,” Carrington says. “I think I had hair in that footage, so maybe [I was] 4 or 5.”
Wasmund was about 10 when his parents got him his first guitar. “And, as cheesy as it is, I think I heard Jimi Hendrix play once and I was like, ‘I want to be like that. I want to make those sounds,’” Wasmund says.
Carrington met Wasmund at an eighth grade dance. Wasmund and his friend, Kyle Owens, brought their guitars and amps to the dance, but they weren’t allowed to bring them inside. “They found two outlets in front of the school,” Carrington says. “Plugged it up. It sounded like there were some elephants here. Some loud animals running around White Station Middle School.”
Rather, it was Wasmund and Owens “riffing through ‘Stranglehold.’”
They began jamming together when Wasmund discovered Carrington played bass. “I honestly thought I wanted to play bass and scream in a thrash metal band at the time,” Carrington says. “They were very much more bluesy Hendrix licks. We tried to run through ‘Seek & Destroy’ by Metallica with no drums. That’s how that one went. And then Kyle started doing ‘Voodoo Child.’ And I hopped on the drums. And Wasmund started riffing the solo.”
He and Carrington have been in numerous bands together, including a current one, Bigger Fish, Wasmund says. “It started with What’s in a Name, evolved into The Jetpack Crew a couple of years later, and then pretty much after that started The Stupid Reasons.”
(Petunias) was the title of The Stupid Reasons’ first album, which they recorded with a slew of other musicians from 2019 to 2022. Carrington’s song, “Petunias (The Break Room Song),” was inspired by the giraffe keeper at Memphis Zoo, where he worked as a tram driver. He was talking to her about how he was frustrated because he was stuck at work and he couldn’t play bass for the recording of Blvck Hippie’s self-titled EP that day. “She hit me with this phrase I had never heard before. She said, ‘Well, you must feel like a petunia in an onion patch.’ I said, ‘You know, Shirley, that’s exactly how I feel.’ And I had that song drop out of me.
“I wrote all about feeling like a petunia in an onion patch. And then I modernized it: ‘I feel like a Ferrari in a used car lot.’”
Carrington describes (Petunias) as “a collection of songs written over different time periods in my life.”
“We were wrapping up (Petunias) when me and Daniel decided, ‘Hey, it kind of works for us to play as a two piece. Let’s just jam.’ All the songs on the second album are from us just jamming together.”
The new record will be a “full concept album,” Carrington says. “Inspired by post-punk and ’80s.”
Songs include “Passing Through,” which is “about somebody passing through your life romantically. And being at peace with that for a change. Instead of holding onto it and being bitter, but appreciating that experience and that chapter in your life even though it’s done.”
Lyrics include, “Passing through my life like a harmony I can’t return to. That’s you.”
For the new album, he and Wasmund are fleshing out some ideas on how to take the music to “new sonic places,” Carrington says.
The Stupid Reasons will perform July 26th at the Hi Tone Cafe at 282-284 North Cleveland Street; (901) 490-0335.
Looking around, it’s pretty obvious America is in the midst of a full-blown mental-health crisis. More people are discovering therapy to help them deal with the world. But what happens when you start to have inappropriate feelings for your therapist? Who do you talk to about that?
This scenario can be especially hard if your therapist is chanteuse Louise Page. That’s the conundrum The Stupid Reasons‘ Gus Carrington finds himself in in “How Does That Make You Feel?”
The Stupid Reasons’ third video (after the slickly animated “The Moon (From Heaven)” which the Flyer covered last November) was directed by Justin Malone. It stars Carrington on the couch and Page as his beautiful counsellor. Can The Stupid Reasons keep it professional?
You can find out at the Belltower Coffeehouse on Thursday, August 4 when Carrington and bandmate Daniel Wasmund—along with Carrington’s dad Charley on drums—will celebrate the release of their new album (Petunias). Meanwhile, here’s the video.
The Stupid Reasons, a local band whose oeuvre veers between acoustic-and-clean tone ballads and fuzzed-out rockers, this week released a haunting tribute to songwriter Gus Carrington’s Uncle Russ.
The song, “The Moon (From Heaven),” begins tentatively with acoustic guitar and slightly quavering vocal delivery, and slowly builds on that foundation to create a rich tapestry of a song. Recorded at Young Avenue Sound — with some additional tracking at Sun Studio and Easley McCain — the song features a cast of Memphis musicians and Carrington’s family members. Kathy Zhou handles the song’s piano part, and Daniel Wasmund holds down the bass line. Carrington’s father sits in on drum duties, and, the singer says, “I also brought my brother Luke out of french-horn-retirement to play on this thing.” I spoke with Carrington about the new single, the forthcoming album (Petunias), and the indefinable value of the iPhone Notes app.
“The Moon (From Heaven)” by The Stupid Reasons
Memphis Flyer: Okay, I have to ask — what can you tell me about the band name?
Gus Carrington: I have a few explanations for this, unfortunately: The simplest is that it reminded me of something that might be said in an argument between significant others. “Oh, you think that? That’s a supid reason to do that.” I laugh about these kind of trivial conversations (that happen in the middle of Target at the worst times) when I’m outside the context of being in a relationship, but songwriting can definitely help reveal how you feel or how you would express yourself if someone’s idea of how you should express yourself wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.
Likewise, in any interaction, someone may think the reasons you have for a particular life decision are “stupid reasons,” but if you know in your heart it’s the right move for you personally (and it ain’t hurting anyone else), those aren’t really stupid reasons. There could be a million opinions of how you should live your life, but it only takes one gut feeling for you to know what you are comfortable and happy with.
That’s the manufactured after-the-fact version I’ve pieced together, but the bare-bones truth is that I have kept an iPhone note since high school that lists band names I find funny or even actually good. Around college I started getting back into acoustic guitar and writing songs regularl, and “The Stupid Reasons” really stuck out to me as a band that I would want to check out if it existed.
Honestly, I don’t even necessarily remember writing that one down in the iPhone note, but years later I looked back at some journaling I did. I was describing how depressed I was at a certain point in my life, but how I’ve got to “just keep filling my time up with these stupid reasons to be happy.” Sometimes it’s hard to do, but finding enjoyment in the small stuff can lead to feeling better overall, and that’s important. It’s got something to do with serotonin or dopamine or whatever words we millennials keep putting in memes. Basically, I can always turn to music and songwriting for “stupid reasons to be happy.” YouTube compilations of SNL sketches also are doing the trick lately though.
I love the arrangement on this piece. How did the song come together?
Thanks! All the songs on this record originated as things I could play/sing on acoustic guitar first and foremost. Originally this was so I could perform solo at open mic nights and coffee shops (RIP Avenue Coffee), but the more I’ve played in bands, the more I’ve realized how strong a song is from the get-go if you can play it on one instrument and people are still interested.
That being said, Dan and I went to a cabin to cut demos for about three of the songs on the album and figure out the rhythm section stuff. This happened to be one of those. We also got to the bottom of a bottle of wine, swapped manly stories, and watched The Wedding Singer on DVD.
Like I said, I also asked my brother if he could come out of french horn retirement to play on this song. He played horn in high school band, but he’s about three years into a computer science degree at U of M, so he had to buy a new mouthpiece and everything! I had a vague idea of a pattern he could play that I showed him on guitar, and he kind of interpreted and did his own thing with it. Matt slapped it with reverb and the part absolutely made the song.
We had about a rehearsal or two with Kathy and my dad before going into Young Avenue Sound around October of 2020.
I have a terrible ear for lyrics, so I’m always hesitant to try to guess at meanings. What’s it about?
All in all, it’s about life ending as well as beginning. The inspiration for the opening guitar part came after I had just received news that a friend of mine was pregnant. Half worried for her and her boyfriend but also half bewildered by the mystery of life, I started strumming this progression that seemed to match this otherworldly uncertainty I was feeling. It was my way of processing the news, but I also felt like I didn’t know enough about the situation to write anything lyrically about it. I was just feeling a lot about life and changes, hoping for the best but not knowing what the future held.
Around that time, I also received the news that my Uncle Russ had passed away. My family had known that it was a possibility and had talked about that reality, but it was weird not being able to visit the rest of the family up in Ohio during the height of the pandemic — May of 2020. Instead, we paid close attention to social media posts and sent our love and support from afar.
My cousin Cindy described the moment with my uncle she had with him right before he passed. The moon was already visible during daylight and, comforting him, she wondered aloud what it might look like from heaven. She wrote online that he “always knew the power of holding back and quietly considering a situation. So, he chose that time to go.”
I felt like that was such a powerful and poetic final memory to have with someone, like Hollywood couldn’t even write that. I ended up typing the phrase “How does the moon look from heaven?” into another iPhone note I keep track of. Then, again feeling this great uncertainty, I remembered that “other-worldly” sounding chord progression I had in a back pocket. I took it from there, but most of the details of the lyrics were directly inspired by my uncle’s online obituary, which was beautifully written and taught me things I never knew about him.
I had never consulted an obituary for song lyrics, but every single time I felt even the slightest bit lost for words, there was another detail that rhymed with another one or something that I could alliterate with a word I was already thinking of using. It was like building a scrapbook of memories into a poem, and I reached a point where I stopped worrying if it made sense to anyone outside of the family. It all felt beautiful and that’s what mattered.
Despite my awful ear for lyrics, I can pick out a lot of references to childhood. Does considering a child’s perspective help when considering topics like heaven?
I guess it’s something that we’ve all pondered since our youth and that none of us can explain with complete scientific certainty, so it unites us all no matter our age? The specific lines in the song either describe my uncle’s young adulthood (noticing the airplanes that were taking soldiers to war) or my cousins’ childhood memories of my uncle being a completely awesome dad from what it sounds like (hiding chocolate in teddy bears and making a point to sing them happy birthday).
Ironically enough, I think my uncle was a shining example of how you could retain some childlike wonder as an adult. The last visit we actually had with him, he made sure to tell us that one of his favorite songs was Mac Davis’ “It’s Hard to Be Humble (When You’re Perfect in Every Way).” The day after I tracked the final parts for this song with Matt, you’ll never guess what record I found in the used bins at Game X Change.
What’s it like being creative at a time like this?
It’s completely become the cliche to say that the pandemic actually helped me focus on what matters from that standpoint, but it’s more so that lockdown did. I used to book gigs left and right, but when I couldn’t focus on that, I buckled down and finished mixing the five tracks I had been letting live on my laptop for two-and-a-half years. Once that EP was finished and out there, I could move on and get back into Young Ave. to do the same thing on a grander scale — so long as no one involved had tested positive or been in contact with someone who had.
I’ve also had ups and downs with working from home, but as a songwriter, nothing beats being able to pick up a guitar at a moment’s notice if inspiration strikes. Quite literally, that’s how “Moon” came to be — pre-pandemic I don’t think I could have gotten away with writing a song around 3 p.m. on a Thursday. Who knows if this song would have even happened.
How does it feel to work the word “curmudgeon” into a song?
Not going to lie, I didn’t really see that one coming. Still, that detail really intrigues me — Uncle Russ had a group of buddies who called themselves “The Curmudgeon Brothers,” which I also put into my phone notes list of potential band names.
What else can listeners expect from The Stupid Reasons?
Most immediately, the exact opposite of this song. We dropped a single and music video over the summer, but this track marks the first of at least four or five tracks we’ve been plotting to drop once a month until the full album comes out in spring. The next tune is a fuzz-rock banger, which Crockett Hall (another supremely focused and capable Memphis producer) told me sounds like Best Coast meets The White Stripes. I just about did a cartwheel hearing that comparison.
It’s loud, energetic, and definitely not a ballad like “The Moon.” When I say I listen to a lot of different music, I mean that in the sense that I start my day showering to Megan Thee Stallion but will be writing marketing material to instrumental new wave playlists an hour later. If you like the really acoustic folk-rock tracks we’ve been putting out, great! Get ready to hear them through a chorus pedal and played in between Talking Heads covers if you see us live. We have fun.
Is there anything else you would like people to know?
I’ve noticed probably the best songs I write are all based on lessons that honorable folk from the older generation taught me. Russ was the kind of guy who spent time “making most days incredible” for the people he cared about instead of raining on the parade for anyone he didn’t care for. He’d be the last person I’d ever expect to have enemies, but I know no one’s perfect, and that it probably actually took a lot of work to be that harmonious to the world around you. Self-control and self-care are very, very good things. We need more of them in the aftermath of this whole stressful pandemic business.
