Le Big Zero is an indie rock band consisting of Michael Pasuit (vocals, guitar, bass), Carolina Aguilar (vocals) and Dylan Thurston (drums). This September sees the release of their latest record, Ollie Oxen Free, an album that has certainly taken the winding road to completion. After cutting his teeth in the Hoboken art-rock scene, Pasuit moved to Seattle and started Le Big Zero, touring extensively and releasing two albums. However, upon moving back east he worked on different music, getting “a little lost” and “hella depressed” before coming out the other side with a renewed vision for Le Big Zero.
Ollie Oxen Free has therefore been brewing for decade, though the result is more than worth it. Combining a punk aesthetic with garage rock tones, Le Big Zero work with atypical structures that explore dissonance and harmony, playing with timings not through some sloppy abandon but rather a subversive and experimental spirit. This couples perfectly with Pasuit’s writing style, a voice that utilises irony and cynicism without ever being coy.
“I find it a lot easier to tap into a range of emotions, thoughts, and storytelling through a more sardonic lens,” Pasuit wrote in a guest piece on PureGrainAudio. “Woe-is-me. Woe-is-the-world. Because it’s all kind of silly that any of this exists anyway. The stresses we put ourselves under. The innate approval seeking. We tend to seek and create our own chaos. While there’s this cloud of black-comedy hanging over the album, there’s still moments of truth, self-discovery, and social criticism throughout. There’s probably a lot to unearth in terms of being emotionally guarded, but my therapist probably can’t play in a syncopated 5/4.”
We’re delighted to be able to share a brand new single in anticipation of the record. ‘Don’t Know Any’ blends scuzzy, playful garage rock with the raucous attitude of The Thermals and throws in a little math rock complexity too, making for a track that manages to achieve raw immediacy without sacrificing on nuance and intricacy. No where is this clearer than the climax, a swirl of instrumentation that gathers around itself in a clattering noise, drawing energy from its own motion—closing out the blend of wry observation and genuine feelings that marks the Le Big Zero sound.
I don’t say anything unless I’m spoken to
With that look you say what the hell’s wrong with you?
I gave you bad advice, you crashed your car
Guess I don’t know anything
