A Cosmic Roundtable Pizza: Scott Hirsch, Bobby Lee & Joe-Harvey Whyte in conversation

Last week, Joe-Harvey Whyte and Bobby Lee released their phenomenal futurustic time capsule of a record, Last Ride, on Curation Records. Tomorrow, Scott Hirsch releases Lost Padre, a textural exploration of a man’s existential crisis, on his own Echo Magic Records. The lads got together to play a show in Topanga and our friend Roberto Johnson was kind enough to interview them and facilitate a conversation. The FOMO I had knowing three of my favorite musicians and humans as delightful as they are talented were sharing thoughts, feelings, and mushroom pizza at Endless Pizza in Topanga Canyon.

Make sure to pick up Lost Padres and Last Ride on Bandcamp.

Roberto Johnson: Let’s start with Scott. Talk a little about the new record. It describes the journey of a character called the Lost Padre. Do you feel like there’s a resolution for him in this record?

Scott Hirsch: I think it’s about getting older. I don’t want to say midlife crisis because that brings to mind clichés — like an aging guy buying a Maserati. But it’s something real that people don’t talk about enough. It gets muddled with stereotypes. The record takes a hard look at that experience. I’m not going to say that searcher is me, necessarily. It’s a journey. It’s not about resolution — it’s a state of being, and a conversation about the present.

RJ: Could you talk about the background of the album? You mentioned it’s been brewing for a while.

SH: Some of the songs were originally intended for the previous record. So, longer than the three years it took to make this one. I had a couple of songs I just kept working and shaping — like kneading dough — until they finally re-emerged in a way that felt right.

It’s a thematic record. I tend to make those. I think all my records carry themes, and even across albums, there are threads that run through. It’s all part of a continuum.

RJ: Backtracking a bit and looking at things from a broader perspective — she wanted to ask about your personal history and evolution. The bands you played in when you were younger were pretty different from what you’re doing now. You went from playing punk and hardcore in your youth to what we might call folk or cosmic country — a very different lane. Can you speak to that evolution a little?

SH: Weirdly, when I was into punk and the hardcore scene — which was over 20 years ago now — even though the music was very different, there was an aesthetic or ethos that felt kind of rootsy. We’d pile into a van, travel backroads across America, and play in the living rooms of kids in small towns in Texas. There was something very Americana about that experience, even if the sound wasn’t.

So when I started leaning into more traditional Americana or roots music, it just made sense. The musical style changed, but the spirit — the ethos — stayed the same. I still prefer playing intimate house shows with friends over fancy clubs. It’s DIY till you die.

Even if the genres are miles apart, emotionally, it feels like the same thing to me.

Bobby Lee: That’s probably an ethos we all share.

JHW: Totally. I mean, look at tonight — we all pitched in to set up the PA, the merch table, everything.

SH: That’s my favorite thing. Meeting new people, or even people you just met but feel like you’ve known forever.

Joe Harvey-Whyte: Shared spirit. Shared parts.What did you expect? We’ve got the same record collections.

JHW: I love the whole DIY approach. It’s not something I’ve experienced much in the UK. Bobby’s one of the only people I’ve met who’s truly all in — from beginning to end — on every project.

I’ve stayed at his house, slept in his guest room, hung out with his daughter — he’s cooked breakfast, designed the poster for the gig, done sound, promoted the show…

SH: DJed, opened the set...

JHW: Exactly. That ethos is really strong in the American DIY and punk scenes. It’s such a beautiful thing — everyone’s just in it together. 

BL: I was just thinking about the scene around the Betsey Trotwood, for example. It’s still grassroots, even if it’s not DIY in the old-school, Xeroxed-flyers kind of way.

SH: You’d be surprised. I’m dating myself here, but back then — pre-internet — we booked tours through the actual mail. But now, so many of those same people show up professionally at a high level.

I was playing with Hiss Golden Messenger for a while, and Mike, who was in that old punk band with me, and I would do these bigger shows and someone would come up and say, “You played in my living room in Columbus, Ohio in ’97.” At first, it surprised us. Now it’s just… of course. It hooked people for life, for better or worse.

BL: I don’t know how you’ll take this, but I’ve heard the phrase: “Alt-country is where punks go to die.”

SH: I mean, look at John Doe. It’s true. There’s some connection–something real, something from the heart.

JHW: And when you come from that DIY background, your foundations are solid. You know how hard it is for the promoter. Even when you’re not the one doing the heavy lifting, you get it. You sympathize. No one glided into this. We’ve all worked hard to be where we are. I don’t take it for granted — sitting in Topanga Canyon with Bobby Lee and Scott Hirsch. That’s ten years of grinding to get here. 

RJ: Pivoting back to the music — we listened to the new record on the way up here. It has such a colorful sound palette. It feels like a natural evolution from your earlier work, but also pulls from a lot of different influences.

Can you talk a bit about the sound palette and where that inspiration came from?

SH: With this one, I really tried to keep things internal — like inside the head of the character, or just an interior space in general. I wanted all the tones to stay close, more contained. Not a big expansive soundstage, but smaller, more intimate journeys.

A lot of the tracks started as experiments — maybe from something I was producing for someone else — and I just took it further than anyone else would have let me. But since it’s my own record, I could push it. I like geeking out on that stuff. It’s fun for me, and hopefully it resonates with others too.

RJ: Lara wanted to ask about how Southwestern and Southern Californian imagery seeps into your music. Especially living in places like Ojai or L.A., it feels inevitable that the environment shapes what you create.

I’d love to hear your perspective, because I live here too — but it seems like it’s deeply woven into your sound and aesthetic.

BL: I hope that from our side, it comes across as a respectful fascination — not cosplay. That’s always my concern. I never want to feel like I’m playing dress-up.

SH: One thing I’d say, though — British folks often make great American music because they can see it from the outside, with a fresh perspective.

BL: We were joking about calling this tour the Coals to Newcastle tour.

JHW: Yeah, there’s a phrase in English — “selling coals to Newcastle” — because there’s so much coal there. It’s almost like trying to sell tea to China. Bobby is such a wizard when it comes to the visual side of things. It’s definitely not my strength. But having been here the last couple of months, getting off the plane and seeing that sky — the color of the blue, the mountains in the distance around LA — then driving through Utah, Arizona, and the Rockies… nature is on an exploding scale here.

Anything that captures the wonder and awesomeness of being confronted with a mesa for the first time… language is such an inefficient way to express how much that affects the human psyche. Visual artists like Jeff, who worked on our records and a lot of yours too, Scott, do an amazing job of putting you right in that place. I’m intensely grateful to Jeff for letting us use this image.

BL: We can’t avoid it being an element of escapism for us. The grey, rainy town of London, the harsh northern industrial landscape of Sheffield — it’s so different coming here and seeing the big skies, the mountains on a totally different scale, the arid beauty of the desert. It’s nothing like back home. 

JHW: I get just as excited about a mossy rock in a dank forest in northern England as I do about a mesa in Arizona. There’s a deep love of nature on both sides, but also a romanticism because it’s unfamiliar — we’re aliens here. The aesthetics of the unfamiliar are powerful for us. We hope to return the favor for you, Scott, when you visit the UK — showing you stone circles and mossy rocks.

RJ: Yeah, it’d be great to hear you guys talk about how you met, and then how this record came about.

BL: We first met back in 2017 or 2018, during a Gospel Beach tour. I was playing bass for Gospel Beach in the UK, and Joe was playing with the Hanging Stars. We did some shows together, and I was really excited to meet a steel player because there are so few in the UK — especially ones as talented and broad-minded as Joe. We stayed in touch, and our paths crossed at various gigs and festivals since then.

JHW: The real turning point, though, was when we both connected individually with Jeffrey Silverstein. Jeffrey kind of courted us separately but gradually brought our orbits closer together, even though we already knew of each other.

BL: I’d been talking to Jeff about getting him over to the UK. I introduced a friend to his music, and he fell in love with it, which helped facilitate the first tour. We called it the Cosmic Country Revue in the States, which might sound a little on the nose, but it played differently in the UK. We needed a banner to put it under that would catch attention more than our names alone. That first tour was in 2023.

JHW: I think I’d sat in with you at a couple of gigs when it started. Whenever Bobby and I jammed, it always just worked — no rehearsal, just “do you want to sit in?” And that was basically the approach we took to the record too. I’d been overthinking it, so we just got in the studio.

BL: Yeah, a lot of the record was studio experiments or improvisations. Sometimes one of us would bring a sequence or a drum machine pattern, but neither of us really came in with fully formed songs.

RJ: We talked earlier about the sonic space — it’s really beautiful. Did you have a vision for that, or did it just come together organically?

JHW: We’d bounce tunes back and forth. When I stayed at Bobby’s up north, he’d always send me home with some clothes and records. I’m really grateful for Bobby’s influence on my record connection. We just passed songs back and forth, feeling out what something might sound like. Then we went into the studio and just improvised.

That’s why I really respect your music, Scott. Like, when we were listening in the car, I noticed how you really lean into parts — you reinforce a line or nail a transition from chorus to bridge with a perfect note or chord that carries the song. That’s not how I create music. For me, I’m just like, I go out the door and my only choice is turn left or right.

SH: That’s probably a better way to be.

JHW: No man, because sometimes you really get lost.

SH: Yeah, but that’s the most fun part. I got a little lost making this record too. I worked songs to the bone, over and over, restarting them so much that I kind of lost my way. But I found it eventually. Took longer than any other record I’ve made.

BL: You said it took about three years. Last Ride was just over a year for us. Some of it was recorded up in Sheffield, some at Joe’s place in London, and some more remote.

There’s definitely some new textures and sounds on your latest record—maybe some ‘80s synths?

JHW: Yeah, I think we all love ‘70s drum sounds and drum machines, but I’ve been slowly migrating forward in time. The ‘80s stuff is pretty interesting.

SH: You can definitely dip your toe into the ‘80s.

JHW: Chorus effects are used nicely. The only thing I don’t hear much is the flanger. Phaser maybe had its time, and now it’s flanger’s turn.

SH: Speaking of ‘80s, Michael Chapman really dove into that era’s sound. Love it or hate it, he went for it.

JHW: What’s your relationship with British music? I’m a huge British folk fan. We pulled into the venue car park and spotted a Sandy Denny bumper sticker—and got super excited, not realizing it was your car! It said, “Honk if you know where the time goes.” I just love all of it—the “fucking terror” as they say.

SH: The Incredible String Band, all of it. Honestly, where else can you go from there? The ‘80s stuff is a loaded question.

My favorite era of British music is when Fairport Convention was playing Dylan covers and basement tape stuff—and then realized, “Hey, we have our own tradition.” That turning point fascinates me.

BL: Yeah, my favorite Fairport era is when they still had a bit of that West Coast influence. That was cool.

SH: I love all those records too, but what I really love is when they realized, “Wait, we’ve got our own roots music.” But they still stayed a rock band—that’s the cool part.

BL: Yeah, and I love that they kept those Levon Helm-style drums, you know? That kind of slight, loping funk to some of those tracks.

SH: It’s funky as hell. You could have a full Renaissance fair hoedown, but it’s still so funky. Do you guys listen to the Albion Country Band? That stuff gets really funky.

BL: Oh yeah, like the first Steeleye Span record? That’s classic British folk-rock right there. Some of those drums are amazing.

SH: My favorite’s when people who are as straight-laced as can be get funky. Like Waylon Jennings—he’s a great example. That tune “Big D” is incredible. So straight it almost feels like reggae. It’s the deepest stuff. 

JHW: I feel like with this whole UK-America musical interaction, we’re all standing on the shoulders of giants—like LA turnaround. That mix of West Coast and the forests of England.

SH: One of my favorites of all time. Such a cool mix of players on that record. Like Red Rhodes.

JHW: We’re just continuing that journey, hopefully.

BL: It’s like the Graham Nash trajectory, isn’t it? You mentioned reggae earlier—there’s a moment on the new record that’s definitely got that vibe.

SH: I know exactly what you mean. I’m a deep, deep Jamaican music fan, so I snuck a bit of it in there. It’s a treacherous crowd to walk into, though.

BL: Yeah, there’s a big difference between respectfully referencing reggae and just “white boy reggae.”

SH: Like maybe John Martyn went there? 

JHW: Yeah, he used to just walk around Kingston with a guitar, playing. When Chris Blackwell sent him there to get sober.

BL: That’s almost as good as the Happy Mondays getting sent to one of the Caribbean islands to get sober.

SH: And they actually made a good record, didn’t they?

BL: Yeah, they did, but they didn’t get sober.

JHW: Have you heard the Bill Callahan dub record? No? It’s called Have Fun with God. It’s all dub remixes of Bill Callahan tunes. What an amazing idea, right? Just reimagining that world. I think ambient music and dub have always been kind of bedfellows.

David Toop’s book touches on that, too. Yeah, dub is really foundational. I read a great book about King Tubby—his whole practice basically invented a lot of modern electronic music. It’s pretty wild.

RJ: Scott, I get the feeling you’ve got a bit of a “high-tech Heartland” fascination? Kind of 80s vibe?

BL: Yeah, it’s this genre I’ve been formulating in my head called high-tech Heartland. It’s like—if What a Fool Believes is the pinnacle of Yacht Rock, then The Boys of Summer is the pinnacle of high-tech Heartland. It’s when the boomer rock old guard discovered studio drum machines and string machines—but still kept some classic rock moves.

SH: Would Plank do it this way? Yeah, yeah. It’s on the album, on the back cover. We talked about the Mojito Brothers—they were kind of on that tip from another angle too.

It’s funny—an old friend of mine from the hardcore punk days was remixing Fleetwood Mac songs with house beats, about 15 years too early. But I love that idea—it’s brilliant.

RJ: I guess to wrap things up—hopefully both of you can speak to this—your new records are out. What’s your hope for the music you’re making now? Like, how do you want this record to enter the world? What do you want it to do?

JHW: I think it’s got this mycelial effect. Maybe it’s like a mushroom, or just a neural network, you know? Like spores getting carried on the wind, and other people picking up on this vibe and making more stuff inspired by it. Because so much of the music we make is inspired by others—it’s like paying it forward.

I guess it’s like, who’s going to fill those shoes? I’m not filling any shoes right now, but I hope the love for this kind of instrumental, evocative sound never dies. That would be enough for me.

BL: I love American country music so much—but I can’t really play it like Joe can. What I’m doing is kind of using the same palette as country music, but doing something at half speed or seeing it through a prism.

JHW: For us, it just felt relevant to make this thing at this time. If people catch a wave of it and get something out of it, that’s all I can ask from a piece of art. It doesn’t have to be that they get my point—I’m not even sure what my point was.

RJ: Scott, what about you? What do you hope people take away from the new record?

SH: I love the mycelium network analogy. It’s like connective tissue. If it makes you feel good, if it does something for you… Every now and then you get a message like, “I was driving somewhere and your song came on, and it really helped me.” That’s the best thing ever.

BL: Well, if the record affects people the way it did when we were in the car just now, pumping our fists in the air… that’s a lot of people who’ll feel it the same way.

Get Lost Padres and Last Ride on Bandcamp.

Photo credits:
Scott Hirsch by Kim Krans
Joe Harvey-Whyte and Bobby Lee by Roberto Johnson
Collage by me