On the S.S. Coachella, a Wine-Tasting With LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy
Note: Liz Tracy, Music Editor of our sister paper Broward-Palm Beach New Times, is aboard the S.S. Coachella cruise this week while Houston continues waiting around for winter.
Old punk guys and fancy wines: Two things that make sense together only now, mere days before the end of the world.
Photos by Ian Witlen
Nothing is more a "sign of the times" than James Murphy and Justin Chearno hosting a wine tasting in the middle of the ocean for a handful of people both able and willing to ride the S.S. Coachella. It has all the elements of things we want as a culture: Exclusivity, intimacy, rock stars, and, of course, booze.
The two-evening Real Wine talk really captured the oddity of the experience, in a more wholesome way than two people discreetly doing it in the Sky Lounge to a live soundtrack of Cloud Nothings.
As it turns out, the former LCD Soundsystem mastermind is a wine fanatic. His good friend Chearno -- formally of Pitchblende and Unrest -- worked as a buyer for Uva Wines. Together, they explained Murphy's journey into winedom and also described what the hell "natural" wine is.
Murphy joked that he hoped the second day would go more smoothly than the first, adding, different day, "same crappy jokes." But that was a load of crap. These guys were funny, though awkward, and they knew it.
Murphy compared his education on wine to that of his early interest in music. When he was a kid growing up in New Jersey and getting into punk, he reminded us that there wasn't a "search engine to tell you like this" if you like that. He had to sift through bins and deal with cranky record-store clerks to find what he enjoyed. Wine has that same sort of experiential appeal.
They spoke of natural wine, the stuff we were slurping down, which Chearno described as more an indicator of what isn't done to the wine rather than what is. For him, each bottle tells a story of a person, time, and place. Que romántico!
The people who create these natural wines are dedicated to this arduous and often fruitless (had to, sorry) undertaking. He compared the winemakers to musicians who tour and sleep on floors for weeks to play in front of an audience of five, all because they love their songs.