Bassist Tim Foreman talks about the ups-and-downs of life that inspired their upcoming album, Vice Verses.
Boldness and doubt. Purpose and apathy. Settlement and wandering. The themes scattered throughout Switchfoot's eighth studio album, Vice Verses tackles the juxtapositions of life – the quandaries and roller coasters that shape the human experience.
Whereas Hello Hurricane identified the conflicts of life, Vice Verses is a call to overcome, and to embrace the tension. Switchfoot bassist Tim Foreman says tension isn't a problem to be solved; it's a story to be lived out – a story that ultimately, leads to redemption.
The 12-song album is a window into the questions, conflicts and victories experienced by the seminal rock band, taking people through themes of inspiration, destiny, internal conflict, the search for purpose and identity, meaninglessness, the brevity of life, and the hope of eternity.
Foreman spoke with NRT Senior Editor Marcus Hathcock before their set at Creation Festival Northwest.
First of all, congratulations on Vice Verses. It's a really special album. Well done.
Thank you so much.
I was looking at all the themes of each song on the record; it's so back and forth, up and down – even musically so. Talk about the theme of tension.
With this record, we're really dealing with the polarity of life – the light and dark, life and death. The concept of Vice Verses is the idea of rebirth through pain and struggle. And you know, I think that's something we all face in life. We go through these storms, these hurricanes, and yet there's fruit that comes from that. And there's pain... and trying to grapple with the messiness of it all.
It seems to me that really, the conclusion of the album, “Where I Belong,” seems to be surrender. Basically, instead of providing an answer to the tension, are you surrendering?
I think that's definitely in there. For me, Vice Verses is all about finding home, and “Where I Belong” obviously is part of a story. You've got “Restless” – the halfway point of the record – talking about raindrops all on this relentless course, this relentless pursuit for the ocean. That is the way we live; we're running. Sometimes we don't know where. We're relentlessly pursuing this destination called home. If you go back to “Afterlife,” the first chapter, there's a completely different approach to looking for home: I'm not waiting for the afterlife. I'm ready now, in this life, right now, where I am. The record really wrestles with that concept of home from many different angles.
Talking about “Afterlife,” what sort of attitude are you speaking to?
I think that song speaks to everyone, you know? Certainly, if you look within the walls of the Church, there's definitely a prevalent mindset of holding on to this ticket to Heaven. I think that's lazy, but I think we're all guilty of it. It's grappling with that, it's grappling with complacency in general. We have so many distractions, so many excuses for not thinking about existence in the larger sense.
Not only is there a story within this album, but really it continues a story that you started with Hello Hurricane, doesn't it?
I really felt that Hello Hurricane was kind of a jumping off point for a new season for us as a band. We're really proud of Hello Hurricane, and we wanted to jump off that as a starting point. But our goal also was to break the mold, musically, and try and show a whole gamut of new colors we hadn't shown. For every record we record, you know, like 80 songs... we really over-create. And you're really cognizant of which color palette you choose to put on an album. And so with this album, we were really intentional to choose a different set of colors – maybe ones that have always existed with the band, but that nobody's ever heard expressed.
You guys were inspired by John M. Perkins in the last album. Is there anybody who's inspired you on this album? Any books, figures?
Our first single, “Dark Horses,” is heavily inspired by the homeless kids in our hometown of San Diego. We do an event every year called the Bro-Am. It's a surf contest and concert on the beach. And it benefits Stand Up For Kids, which is an organization that works with these homeless kids. They are the true dark horses. In [nearby] Seattle there's a huge culture of homelessness amongst kids on the streets. These aren't kids who chose homelessness. They've been thrust into an adult world as children – from broken homes, from being kicked out of homes, from dysfunctional parents, a variety of situations. They're the dark horses this society has written off. And you can't count them out.
“Every fight comes from the war inside.” Tell me about that line.
I 100 percent believe that's true. You turn on the TV or newspaper, and there's not a single fight that can't be traced back to the war within. It starts with the pride, starts with distrust, and I think we all identify with that.
You travel the world; you see all different kinds of people. Is there sort of a theme or something you're seeing at this particular time in history? You get a vantage point not many people have.
That's a cool question. One thing I'm continually struck with is that everyone has a story. I think it's so easy to write people off. I think we're judgmental by nature, but the moment you sit down with someone and hear their story, your opinion changes. Traveling the world, it's really great to hear some of these stories, and you realize that we're all on this journey. We all deal with the same things, when you really boil them down to their most fundamental elements. That's what I love about music – the pure story that can be told in a song. It kind of sneaks past all the walls we have in culture and society. When you put it in a song, you can be so honest and deliver truth, in a meaningful way.
Talking again about tensions, what tensions are you as a band struggling with right now?
The new record really wrestles with the already-but-not-yet concept. As a believer, I think we're really cognizant of the idea that we live in a broken, hurting world, yet there's a bright and shining light of hope that's transcending everything that we do. And we're all trying to come to terms with that. I think hope is not simply looking around and saying that everything's great – that's just ridiculous. For hope to have substance, it has to acknowledge the pain. But hope is saying that's not the final story. It's not saying pain doesn't exist, but it's saying there's not a period at the end of that sentence. It's still being written.
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