Grab hold of every stereotype associated with the Southeastern United States. That mental image is probably spot on, whatever it is. The Weeks take everything one can imagine about the South and flip it on its ass. The band wears the region, and its home state of Mississippi especially, like a badge of honor, prominently displayed for the world to see. As Cyle Barnes’ raspy, soulful tone belts out the chorus of the infectious first single off of Dear Bo Jackson, “Brother In The Night,” listeners can sense the passion he feels for his roots. “Oh if my southern heart’s still pumping blood, well I’ll bury my money in the mighty Mississippi mud. Oh, and if my Southern lungs won’t let me breath, well I’ll wake up the cicadas and I’ll let ‘em push it out for me.”
“We’ve always been influenced by the pace and musical heritage of Mississippi. Everything is slow there. Growing up we had goals of playing music to get out, only to quickly realize that Mississippi has too much to offer in terms of the arts,” Sam says. “With all the poverty and social problems, you see a lot of real shit growing up.”
All that aside, the truth of the matter is that no matter where the collective of Cyle, his twin brother Cain on drums, Damien Bone on bass, Sam Williams on lead guitar and the silky smooth Alex Admiral Collier on keys, it rocks hard. Like any great music, the tales of the South are easily transmitted into the ears and minds of listeners from New York to L.A. and everywhere in between. Whatever side of the Miss. they’re on, these dudes are going to kill it. It’s been in the works since the Barnes were just a twinkle in their father’s eye.
“The twins met in the womb around 1991 and they grew up with Damien in Florence, MS. Our original guitarist and I came into the picture after going to the same shows since we were all about 12 or 13-years-old,” Williams says. “Our hometown had an incredible music scene around then and all of a sudden it seemed every good band either broke up or moved away. We took that as an opportunity to jump right into it. We started the band in March of 2006 and were playing shows within three weeks.”
Every band grows, and growing for The Weeks meant relocating one state North to the mecca known as Nashville. This move may be what pushed the band a step above being solely a Mississippi and to a band that encompasses the feeling of the entire South.
“Nashville has really been great to us these last three years.We wanted to take ourselves out of our element and really focus on the band without friends and family to distract us. Our first year here we played the songs that became Gutter Gaunt Gangster two or three times a day,” Williams says. “The rock music scene also happened to have a huge spike in the last few years. Usually there would be a lot of hostility and jealousy involved with multiple bands in the same genre having some success, but instead it’s just healthy, friendly competition. It just drives each band more, and there’s a great community of musicians.”
The EP Williams mentioned, Gutter Gaunt Gangster, was the first offering from The Weeks on its new label home; the Kings of Leon imprint known as Serpents and Snakes. On it, listeners got a taste of what was to come with the already powerful songwriting and performing possessed by The Weeks. Predecessors, “The House We Grew Up In” and the appropriate “Slave to the South” highlighted the short but sweet knocking on the door of America’s ears. However, it was just the beginning because the band went back into the studio and crafted one of 2013’s best rock records in “Dear Bo Jackson.” The weeks also experienced for the first time the benefits of finding a label that puts music first.
“They let us take the reins on Dear Bo Jackson, completely. It can be intimidating to have complete control of the direction of a record, but we love the assumed responsibility with it,” Williams says.
“It’s a great thing to have a vision of a record when you start writing it and having the finished product come out exactly as planned.”
That direction and responsibility is a total collaborative effort from the guys. It truly is a family as much as it is a band…even beyond the obvious twin connection.
“Usually, I work out the general skeleton of a song with chords and Cyle write the lyrics and then the two of us work out melodies together. Then the rhythm section comes in to flesh out transitions and all the little subtleties that I love about our band. We never want anything flashy, but the little things in songs are what make good songs great. We wanted people to be discovering new parts on Dear Bo Jackson even 20 listens into it. It’s a true democracy. Either a song gets four votes or it gets zero votes. If it’s not unanimous then it gets scrapped for parts or shelved until we figure it out.” – Sam
The appeal of The Weeks is not just in its potent songwriting, but the almost flawless depiction of each song when the band plays live. It’s an energetic and almost spiritual experience. One feels every lyric, every chord, every bead of sweat. Listeners share those things with the guys.
“I think every band prefers writing and recording over touring. Those are the moments that are immortal. Our records will be what people will hopefully be listening to 50 years from now, but touring is such an ‘in the moment’ thing,” Williams says.
The band is about to head out on a European tour where it will play to packed out arenas with its label heads Kings of Leon and then a slate of headlining shows overseas. Then The Weeks will bless its Northern and Canadian brethren with a live show before heading back down south.
“Touring is great fun too though, don’t get me wrong. It’s a whole lot of work to play 45 shows in two months, but at our age it’s really hard to complain. We’re 22/23 and we’ve got an opportunity to travel the world and play for new audiences every night and make personal connections with all sorts of people. We’ve always had a lot of demographics that are drawn to us that we don’t really expect,” Williams says.
“I love that when you go to a Weeks show you’ll see people like us, inked up long hairs, total bros in Patagonia and flip flop, 45 year old couples whose kids turned them on to us. All kinds of people.”
It’s a non-stop effort, but one they relish and cherish. It’s an effort that’s been in the making since before The Weeks were born. Dear Bo Jackson, as great as it is, is only a snapshot of the guys short careers, to this point. They want to build. They want to be better. They want to grow.
“With every record, we just hope it broadens our fan base,” Williams says. “A lot of bands get pigeon holed as a ‘rock’ band, ‘soul’ band and the like. We just want to be known as a ‘good band.'”
The Weeks are.
