We’re not in East Bushwick—I want to make that clear. Yet, as I sit in a circle with the members of LA-based indie rock Swandive, listening to them do a bit about how our current location of Ridgewood, Queens is “gonna be the new East Bushwick—just you wait,” I might as well go along with it. So, for the sake of all things Swandive, consider us in Bushwick, and consider this the first of many inside jokes I bore witness to during the hour or so I spent with the band.
I entered the office of the Stone Circle Theatre (church by day, music venue by night) for an interview with Swandive to find the band’s members sitting on the floor of a pastel blue room conversing amongst each other—it felt like walking in on a group of friends hanging out in someone’s eclectically decorated high school bedroom. Completely at ease and quick to crack a joke, I nearly forgot I was in the presence of a band hours away from playing a set to a packed house.
The band, consisting of four college students and a high school senior, has spent their teenage years climbing the ranks of LA’s underground rock scene, releasing two albums and headlining iconic venues like the Lodge Room and the Troubadour—all before high school graduation. “I feel like LA fosters local music for underage people really well,” commented lead singer and guitarist Riley Schmedeman. “When we started the band when we were fourteen, we were playing shows basically right off the bat.”
“We’ve been writing music for a really long time,” remarked bassist and synth player Elijah Small. “I feel like it’s really annoying when people say ‘I can’t even remember when I started writing music…’” he trailed off with a laugh, realizing he was about to be that person. But it’s true—the members of Swandive are well-seasoned musicians who grew up immersed in the very same rock scene of which they would later be a part.
“We all were going to punk shows [and small house shows] in middle school.” continued Elijah. “It introduced us to a whole world of the underground punk scene in Los Angeles.”
Swandive’s music pairs a masterful understanding of composition with a rawness that speaks to the members’ youth. With a prog rock complexity and a punk-like edge, their sound is simultaneously meticulous and messy. Angsty, wailing vocals overlay precise, interwoven guitar riffs to create songs that walk the line between controlled and unruly.
“When we finish a song, [we want] it to be very interesting instrumentally and definitely feel like we’re challenging ourselves. But at the end of the day… it has to be a good song,” noted Riley.
“There’s a fine line between complexity and actual creative texture,” explained guitar, bass, and synth player Henry McKenzie. “And what I think a lot of this band’s writing style comes down to is texture versus just trying to show off as much as possible.”
“The goal isn’t to make it too complex,” remarked Riley. “We just like to make things fun for us to play.”
One look around the room and you can tell Swandive does have fun. Drummer Max Rubin’s t-shirt has the face of the Blue M&M and Henry’s has a picture of Eric André in a speedo. Guitarist Sebastian Block said the phrase, “everything’s a metaphor” about three times during the interview and Riley punctuated every answer to my questions with a grin and a scratchy laugh. This is a group of serious musicians who don’t take themselves too seriously.
Their latest record, The Lonestar, is a testament to the fact that as the band grows up, their music grows with them. Initially released in August of 2023, the band’s sophomore album serves as a maturation and polishing of their signature gritty sound. “Coming off of the first one, we were like, ‘we gotta make some songs everyone can recognize,’” explained Riley. “We definitely wanted to make everything a little dancier. That was a day one realization.”
With the intensity of “Infectious,” the sincerity of “Say Less,” along with danceable tracks like “Your Eyes,” and “Dreamt of You,” the album is impressive in its range, all the while remaining quintessentially Swandive.
“I feel like it’s also important to note that the album was inspired by Tex Mex food—” remarked Elijah with a smile, “it’s named after a meal that you can get.”
“A meal that specifically only one member of Swandive used to always get,” Henry chimed in.
All eyes turned to Sebastian. “We were all getting together towards the end of [quarantine] to watch movies… and sometimes we would order some Tex Mex,” he explained. “I was always obsessed with this one meal called ‘The Lonestar.’”
“He made a whole persona out of it,” Riley remarked.
Sebastian grinned. “The guy who gets the Lonestar is the guy who doesn’t conform.”
“That’s kind of Sebbie’s whole vibe without the meal…” said Riley with a laugh.
Fitted leather jacket, mod haircut, pensive demeanor—Sebastian did strike me as the kind of guy to order the Lonestar.
As I scrawled notes to the tempo of Swandive’s rhythmic banter and a blaring punk song seeping through a crack in the door, I was continually struck by the band’s chemistry. They couldn’t get through an interview question without laughing, finishing each other’s sentences, or spiraling into a series of inside jokes that attest to their years of friendship. As they explained more of the memories behind their music, it became evident that I was in the presence of a group of kids bound together not just by a passion for the music they make, but through genuine affection for one another. Above our circle, a wooden sign reading, “Love One Another” hung on the wall, and if you spend one minute with Swandive, you’ll realize that the sign rings true.
“We all do pretty different things, musically,” explained Riley. “We all have different passions outside of Swandive but I think we’re very passionate about coming together to play these shows. Because– at least for me – nothing makes me happier… When we left LA, what we kind of had going through our brains was: “Swandive is too awesome to not keep going.’” Despite living in four different cities, attending five different schools, and being almost 3000 miles from the City of Angels, Swandive is here to stay, and East Bushwick is better off for it.
Two hours later, I joined a sea of band tees and thrifted jeans in the pit of the Stone Circle Theatre to watch the band play their first show in New York City. Under a veil of dim cathedral light, I watched college kids slam bodies against bodies, head-banging to Swandive’s blaring set, their chemistry even more electric on-stage. “Every song that comes on / is a song from the Gods…” wailed Riley, exchanging a grin with Sebastian as they spewed sound into the sanctified stratosphere. Henry, bass in hand, thrashed to the rhythm of “Children’s Game,” as Elijah clutched his elephant pendant like a rosary, swaying before his blaring synth in sheer musical rapture. Somewhere between songs Max shed his Blue M&M t-shirt, perhaps as a holy sacrifice to sound. A glowing mosaic of Jesus hung behind the stage, gazing down with a small grin, watching Swandive—what’s the word?—shred.
