Q&A: I Am Committing A Sin
It is with great sadness and displeasure that I write that Burlington, Ontario’s I Am Committing A Sin are no longer a band. Though the band had broken up near the beginning of this year, things looked good for the quintet as they tried to give it another go over the last few months. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t in the cards, and their distinct brand of technical post-hardcore will be laid to rest for good (or until they reunite a few years down the road).
I spoke with singer and good friend Daniel Tremblay about the band’s split, as well as his feelings on the music industry which motivated his decision to leave IACAS. The band played their final show last Friday, May 21st, in Oakville.
Let’s get this out of the way first: What is the reason for the breakup?
Daniel Tremblay: The breakup was caused by me not feeling fit to tour at the level and as frequently as the other four members of my band. From that, Andrew [Basso, bass] decided that he didn’t want to play in another band other than I Am Committing A Sin and he didn’t want to play with any other vocalists, so he and I are going to school next year.
It happened, but then you guys seemed to get back together for a bit, so what was that all about?
Basically, I suppose it took some convincing. The first time I left, it wasn’t really met with any real feedback. Everyone sort of accepted it like, “That was weird.” Then, Paul [Rousseau, guitar] and Kelly [Bilan, drums] along with our management asked me to reconsider and it kind of went like a debate would go. We agreed that, for argument’s sake, my wanting to leave wasn’t a good enough reason. I agreed, to an extent, and I agreed that we could have it out in this debate style and whoever won would win, and I lost. I rejoined with the intention of touring infrequently but also writing a record. It seemed to me that we’d be playing more shows and wouldn’t be writing as much as I’d want it to, and even though I lost the debate, that’s not really the way these things go.
Yeah. You can’t really be coaxed into doing something like this.
Yeah. My priorities changed. It sucks to say because four of my best friends played music with me and their priorities haven’t changed. It doesn’t mean that we’re any different than before, it’s just that this isn’t what I can be doing in my life right now, so I opted out.
Was it met with any animosity from the other guys?
No. It was probably the cleanest band breakup ever. I still consider them to be my best friends. It’s been fine, except for the odd joke, like when we have been playing these last shows, I’m the only one who pumps gas because they force me to. I don’t mind that. Other than that, it’s all fun.
For us being friends with you guys, it came as quite a shock, given that you guys were going at it so hard for a while. Is it a jarring transition for you?
I’ll be frank about it. Yesterday I went to the University of Toronto to see an academic advisor to talk about where I was at with all that stuff, because it’s been about three years since I’ve been at school. On the train, on the way there, it brought back feelings of going back to Toronto and going into school to do all that shit I hated so much when I left. I was listening to our band, and I’ll admit that because I like it so much, and there was a part of me that was dragging me back, like, ‘Get the fuck back to your band and write music with your friends.’ It did feel weird, but I still feel as though I made the right decision.
It feels as though you’re over it, when the lyrics seem to be so intensely passionate about being a real artist and musician, among other things. It’s a shock to me that it would just fizzle out for you.
It is. It’s still an intense thing. I still feel the same way I felt on all those songs, especially the last four songs that we recorded for the Tragedians EP. Those songs were directed at the music industry and problems I had with it. Not necessarily problems I had and wanted to overcome to be a better person for it. There’s always that idea that a band like Gatsby’s American Dream will eat shit until they get to a certain point until they become megastars, but in reality, that doesn’t really happen. This was around the time our agent, who maybe contributed us to this, because he always threw out ideas of us touring with bands like Ill Scarlet, who make me throw up in my mouth. So, I thought, maybe it wasn’t worth eating all that shit and losing certain things in my life that mean a lot to me that I would have to sacrifice to bring those dreams and ideas that are penned in the lyrics to fruition. I decided that it wasn’t [worth it]. We’re all still passionate, we just have different ideas about the arenas in which those ideas should be expressed.
Are you still going to play music in any capacity?
Yeah. Music isn’t something you can really walk away from. I am more just walking away from the industry. This summer, Andrew and I will be writing music together. Music is the last remaining art form that is completely driven by the tenant of art for art’s sake. There’s no way to give it up. If you enjoy singing, or if you enjoy playing guitar, then there’s no point to giving up. It doesn’t need to be heard, it’s just art for art’s sake.
That’s comforting to hear, because knowing you guys, you immediately get the sense that you guys do have a raw passion for music. What about the industry exactly made you so fed up with it?
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because a lot of bands out there whose target audience is the antithesis of ours have done great things for us, and I don’t feel like naming names, but it seems to me like we were being thrust in a direction where people wouldn’t receive the music on the level that I’d want them to. That seems super arrogant, but I had a problem with being the frontman that people only wanted to pin up on their walls. They wanted someone in skinny jeans that they could idolize, and that hit me really hard. This was something I’d worked day and night on for seven years and it was not being received on the level that I’d wanted it to be. Yeah, we write really heavy music, but it’s not just good because it’s heavy. It’s good because we put a lot of effort into that and we try to craft songs that should be received intellectually, and I don’t think it would ever be, given the people we were playing for.
That’s also part of the fight, if you will, of playing music that is challenging in some way. As an artist, you try to change people’s minds and change the way they look at things, to be subversive in some way. Do you just not want to bother?
I very clearly say “Fuck it,” on one of our new songs on the EP about that same thing. Maybe I’ve just been in the suburbs for too long, but I’ve just grown tired of the argument. I don’t see the point in shouting my opinions in the face of really beige individuals.
Define “beige.”
Just blank slates who don’t necessarily have any direction or inclination of what they want to be listening to.
The argument that I’d make is that you can never choose your audience, no matter who you are.
That’s true, if you’re playing in a band that’s touring in the industry, but as someone who is writing songs in a basement with my friends, I can choose my audience. I can choose who hears the music. I like that control.
Is it more important that the people hearing the songs get it rather than no one hearing it at all?
Yeah. I think so.
In a way, that is somewhat noble, that you’d rather not play music at all.
It comes back to art for art’s sake. I never took music seriously in that I wanted to be a musician for the rest of my life. I never considered myself a musician, I consider myself a writer first. It comes from that horrible pretension that I have where I think, ‘These people aren’t gonna get it.’ I don’t think there’s enough drive out there in the music listening world to make a conscious effort to get something. It’s all trends or gimmicks that people want to go for, and it really bothers me. If I can make music for the sake of making music and be able to choose my audience, that’s ideal for me. I don’t necessarily want to go to school, I hate it, but it gives me an opportunity to be around the people I want to be around until I find out what I am going to do.
Is there any basis for regret in this decision?
Totally. It’s something that I’ve worked for seven years to get to this point, and maybe we’d even explode. It’s weird to walk away from something that’s so important to me. The 16 year old me is kicking myself right now. I don’t know if I’ve grown up a little bit, but I’ve become able to appreciate different things in life. I’m totally filled with regret. As you know, there’s a sense of camaraderie. A band is a friendship club or something. Even on that level, I feel like I won’t be able to connect with some of the guys, but it’s also given me an opportunity to explore different things.
There are bands out there who would kill to tour with bands like Ill Scarlet or those types of groups.
I guess it’s just pessimism catching up with me. You know these people aren’t gonna like it, they aren’t gonna appreciate it, you know why they’re gonna hate it, but you also know why they should like it, which is the most frustrating part. There’s different ways to be an artist in the world, and maybe the music industry isn’t the arena for me. I’m not cut from that cloth. We did a tour with A Day To Remember and they were talking about not being home for a year and a half. I couldn’t do that. I Am Committing A Sin became like a train you just couldn’t get off of. It’s like having four girlfriends. I can’t go to Montreal this weekend, I can’t go anywhere, I can’t stay home because there’s four people counting on me to scream in apathetic kids’ faces.
You seemed to have a lot of people lamenting your decision.
Yeah. That was cool. There were people who sent me messages to my personal Facebook account saying how sad they were, and that was great. That was part of why I rejoined. It’s like going to Julliard and you get an audition to do a play with Al Pacino. This band is like four Al Pacinos, the one on drums especially. This was the way for me to get my ideas out there, this was that play. Then, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.
How does it feel to know you’re playing the last show with your band?
I know I’m going to back out from doing a big scream in a song to save my voice, but there won’t be a point to doing it. I’ll look over at the four girlfriends up there and see how they’re feeling, to read something on their faces. I’ve tried to suppress all those animal urges to get back into it because it’s the only thing I’ve ever really known. It’s going to be weird walking off that stage and lighting up that final, post-show cigarette. It’s the punctuation to a really strange, but the most important chapter in my life. That cigarette is going to be a weird one.
