Rubblebucket

"Rubblebucket is the inspired music of singer and saxophonist Kalmia Traver, trumpeter and singer Alex Toth and their wailing band of big-sounding fun."-  NPR 

“The indie rock Miami Sound Machine” - ROLLING STONE 

“joyful, sparkly pop zest” - Paste

“A uniquely New York anxiety, erupting into a cacophony of sounds." - FADER

“The beautiful sounds of Rubblebucket” Kerrie Cosh - BBC Radio 1 - Future Artists

“Enjoy the beauty of what Rubblebucket have put together”- Jack Saunders - BBC Radio 1 - Future Artists 

"You should probably know about this one!" Lauren Laverne - BBC 6Music

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Rubblebucket on New Single 'Geometry':

"I first heard this song when Alex uploaded it to a group Soundcloud playlist during a week-long remote songwriting workshop we’d organized with 30 of our musician friends in 2020. He wrote me a separate note saying it was about our friendship. Our friendship has lasted almost 20 years so far and has contained many mistakes, trials, tribulations, albums, tours, tears, arguments, swims, nights, mornings, laughs, and infinity wild dances. Probably most fundamentally it’s contained a dogged mutual support that I can’t always fully comprehend. In some of the Buddhist practices I’ve learned about, showing up to meditate day after day is likened to adding a bead each day to a string of beads…. You can only sense a fuller essence of the benefit by zooming out across time to see the ups and downs as a larger more composite wave. Call it continuity practice, a weaving, or a sort of sacred geometry? Anyhoo, before I get too sappy or pseudo mathematical I’ll just say I really love this song, and the opportunity to lay down an extra honky alto sax solo that turned into a hook of sorts was a privilege. It was another privilege to play (on bari sax) the maximally huge horn line at the end - penned by our collaborator Sean Smith." — Kalmia Traver 

"This was the first time in my life I wrote songs exclusively using only bass and drum machine. In my mind I was trying to make disco songs. I like loosely aiming for a genre and then landing on something that sounds like its own thing. I had the session open and I was blanking out so I literally "called on" Kal to get inspo vibes. She told me that something she loves about a lot of dance music is the lyrical repetition and how few words there are. The B section of "Geometry" is a pretty literal representation of that moment and that inspiration between two friends/collaborators.  

The "woke up in a painting part" has to do with the sometimes groundhogs day nature of routine life, especially during the height of pandemic-- there can be a sense of frozen-ness. We kept the main groove very sparse and open-- just drums and bass. The bass notes sustain and play almost chords which to me feels like Morphine or Portishead against pretty Arthur Russel-esque melodies. Melody notes which help complete the harmony. I also love the huge horn drones inspired by Kal and I's earlier jazz influences like Charles Mingus and then the very 80s pop/Fela Kuti inspired horn line at the end which Sean Smith wrote." — Alex Toth 

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Rubblebucket recently surprised fans by mailing out invites to a combination community revitalization & listening party set to take place in Brooklyn later this month. Fans will clean up the community before participating in a sunset album listening / dance party  with appearances by the band and a DJ set by Miss Alicia. Invites were also available at the site of their NYC release show, Public Records. Fans who RSVP'd early received event info and guaranteed entry. More details at rubblebucket.com/invite. In keeping with the spirit of the spirit of Earth Worship, the invites were printed on plantable seed paper. 

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“I’ve been coming a thousand years / you could call me the endless fuck,” goes the memorable opening line of Rubblebucket’s Earth Worship, a groove-forward, joyously layered collection of songs which work to dissolve the imaginary lines between the natural world and its human inhabitants. The prolific group’s newest record, it’s an album with renewed shimmer, showcasing Rubblebucket’s intricately sparkling beats, hushed-yet-hooky vocals, and irresistible melodic complexity—a celebration of togetherness, environmental curiosity, and the pleasure in doing what you love.

Kalmia Traver and Alex Toth, the group’s front persons, co-writers and co-producers, first began a friendship as jazz students at the University of Vermont. Soon after, they formed Rubblebucket, using the project to delve into pop, funk, dance and psychedelia; performances have spanned Bonnaroo to Glastonbury to their self-curated Dream Picnic Festival, and they’ve collaborated with kindred genre-blenders including Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears. But before their musical relationship, Traver and Toth initially bonded over another shared passion: the two were part of UVM’s Sustainable Community Development program.

Sustainability is still a part of their lives: Toth communes with nature as part of his morning routine, and Traver is adept at foraging in the band’s adopted home of New York City. Yet songwriting explicitly about environmentalism in Rubblebucket has felt immaterial—besides, the band has shared its beliefs over the years by inviting anti-fracking, reproductive justice, and other organisations to table at their shows. But Traver was interested in writing love songs for and from the natural world, and both were inspired by their parents’ work in ecology and community facilitation, from which they saw a throughline to music’s communal healing. Traver suggested “earth worship” as a lyrical prompt for their sixth record, and with this concept at its core, the duo began writing an album titled after that very theme.

Since their last full length, 2018’s Sun Machine, Rubblebucket’s songwriters have recorded extensively with other projects. Traver, usually a saxophonist, poured dance sensibilities into Kalbells, a rhythmic indie quartet in which she plays keyboards. Toth, who dove into punk catharsis with his band Alexander F, went interior for Tōth, a solo project inspired by Arthur Russell’s serendipitous sparseness. “By doing multiple records on our own and together, you just get better and better at understanding the process,” says Toth. That process includes “song-a day” workshops, an ecstatic endeavour the band likens to “spiritual upheaval.” Across two week-long sessions in May and November of 2020, the pair wrote 28 new songs, later trading production duties on each others’ compositions. Toth introduced a new musical direction for Earth Worship: disco. He felt restored by a series of Italo disco and ‘80s Detroit parties thrown by activists he’d met at summer protests, simultaneously drawing huge influence from Resmaa Menakem’s book My Grandmother’s Hands. On a parallel plane, Traver was awestruck by NYC DJs Rose Kourtz and Miss Alicia and revisited the whispered delivery of Blondie’s Debbie Harry. She also brought a fomented sense of creative confidence after seeing an exhibition of abstract painter Hilma af Klint.

Rubblebucket recorded a significant portion of Earth Worship at their homes, tracking Juno 60, Yamaha DX7, flugelhorn, trumpet and saxophones—all atop an electric bass and percussion-heavy production template Toth devised to evoke his vision of disco. In March 2021, the group moved to the Catskills’ Spillway Sound alongside their live band: bassist Ryan Dugre, trumpeter and keyboardist Sean Smith, and drummer Jeremy Gustin, who incorporated chopsticks into his playing to produce otherworldly beats. They reunited with beloved engineer Eli Crews (Tune-Yards, Deerhoof), whose keen taste for Russian drum machines and unusual microphones brought multidimensionality to overdubs like timpani and cassette-processed horns. After eight days of studio bliss, it felt difficult to return to reality. “We had so much fun and it was super inspiring, but it was Alex and I back in a pressure cooker,” says Traver. The duo realised they had to unlearn old patterns in their working relationship, and over the next 10 months, they developed a new language for mediation and repairing creative boundaries— which helped them round Earth Worship’s final corner. Mix engineer Claudius Mittendorfer (Parquet Courts, Weezer) brought striking finishing touches to the record, much to the band’s delight. “It’s a cool way to let go,” says Toth. “The music’s not done when Kal and I are done.”  

Levity is unmistakable on opening track and lead single “Earth Worship,” on which Traver embodies the timeless lust of our planet’s entanglement with humanity over outer space synths and thundering toms. On “Geometry,” Rubblebucket uses no wave guitars and bursts of saxophones to deliver an impressionistic narrative about being trapped in a painting; “Let’s make geometry,” goes the sunny chorus—a cherished sentiment about the resilience of the collaborators’ friendship. “Cherry Blossom,” an addictively catchy blend of warbling keys, soft horns, and sugared piano, sees Rubblebucket’s singers in octave-stretched unison—one of their most unique vocal collaborations yet, as they attempted to copy each others’ inflections across over fifty takes. “You look exactly like a cherry blossom / life is full of paradoxes,” goes one triumphant verse by Toth; “It melds the object and the subject in a way that takes my breath away,” says Traver.

“Back in the day, Rubblebucket was so confusing for me,” explains Toth. “We’re interested in so many things musically. But to have no set bumpers is torturous.” Both artists agree that their extra-Rubblebucket outlets have allowed them to explore their tastes in a way that leaves them rejuvenated, better prepared for the singular beauty of their collaboration with one another. “The process, to me, is what the album is about. The songs are just an artifact,” Traver effuses. Earth Worship uses vibrant sound and glorious harmony to worship our planet and the people who live on it—in Rubblebucket’s world, those two concepts aren’t so different.