The band — keyboardist/vocalist Kalen Lander and singer/drummer Bentley Monet — have crafted an especially bizarre blend of pop, EDM, punk, and hip-hop that's wowed Valley crowds for the last decade or so. And in recent years, the strangest thing of all has happened: This weird little hybrid band's taken off beyond our meager state.
They toured Europe and Japan circa 2019, and they've just finished another extended U.S. tour earlier this spring. In late April/early May, they'll return to Europe, and they're already eyeing dates in Japan (this June) and Brazil (potentially in 2024).
Sure, pure talent should always rise to the top, but even Snailmate recognize the sheer unlikeliness of this turn of events given their unique touring history.
"We've only had, I think, four or five hotel rooms that we paid for ever in all of our touring in the States," Monet says. "Because the weather was so bad that we could not sleep in our car because we would've frozen to death."
The rest of the time, Monet adds, they've slept in cars, and only recently did he build bunks in their van for sleeping. And, sure, there's some quaint romanticism to the whole "starving artist" approach, but Snailmate also does it because touring is their bread and butter.
"Not only is it just fun for us, and it's great to get out of town, but the merch sales don't compare," says Lander. "I mean, we sold a lot of stuff over the pandemic, but like the day-to-day income of and consistency of playing in front of people and getting them our shirts and hot sauce and things like that — that's incomparable to what we can do online."
It's another strange twist because, at a time when some bands can't tour for personal and/or logistical reasons, and instead rely on their digital presence, Snailmate actively buck the trend.
"We're fighting the algorithm constantly," says Lander. "Instagram is constantly changing up the way that they promote things, whether it's how you hashtag things or how they view videos as opposed to posts or whether people who follow you actually are going to see your stuff or they're just going to get a bunch of randomized suggested ads. So it really kind of speaks to our approach as well of just playing as hard as we can every night. And it's not as fun doing it digitally."
As such, the duo take their DIY status quite seriously. It's not just a badge of honor, but a way to operate prudently in an era of increasing uncertainty for "smaller" bands/artists.
"You're not ever going to get that response that you're looking for the first time you go out," Lander says of many bands' first tours. "It's something that you're trying to have to build. Over and over and over."
He adds, "[Some bands] go out once, and they spend the few dollars they make at the bar [drinking]. Then they get a hotel room, and they wonder why they don't feel good, wonder why they're not having fun, and they're not making any money, and they're playing the small rooms because it's their first time. You have to break through that initial ceiling to get the results you're going to want."
And Monet agrees, recognizing that despite its many challenges, properly planned tours are a huge deal.
"So in those regards, it is hard, but it actually makes the touring worthwhile because it's the experience, but also that you're not spending [but] you're making money," says Monet. "Once you start making money...they say you can't buy happiness, but it sure makes you feel better about a lot of things."
What's made touring even better, the pair agree, is a kind of post-COVID "bump," where fans and organizers are happy for the return of live music.
"Most of the venues we're playing at are the same," says Monet of their most recent U.S. tour. "These little dive bars and DIY spaces and house shows. But everyone seems much more professional — like having a load in and set time ... [shows] start on time and they end on time and it's been so much more planned out. As far as the attendance goes, people are more excited watching the band."
Adds Lander, "They're not taking live music for granted like they probably were before, and it's been so cool to see the difference. Because we weren't sure when we went out the first time last year how it would be, but I think everything about it's just been better. And both of us, we've worked at music venues here in town and it's been a pretty universal nationwide shift toward earlier shows; a lot of doors at 7 p.m., shows done by 10 or 11 p.m. I think it's better for everyone."
Even as they played newer venues this last tour, they noticed a big reaction for their distinct stylings.
"So we played quite a few new towns on this tour that we've never played before," says Monet. "And it's really interesting because you can see the first song or two, everyone's kind of like, 'What's going on?' And then by the third song, everyone's like, 'Oh, fuck yeah.' So that's been really cool to see, and that people still remembered us from before the pandemic as well."
And speaking of great reactions, the band says Europe was especially accommodating the first go-around. They're hoping for a repeat on this latest leg.
"The venues and the people running these venues have a much more hands-on approach to the way that they deal with bands, especially touring," says Lander. "I don't know if it's just American bands, but just in general as far as touring, we were taken care of so well. We got to hang out with the people who run the place and their families. They would cook for us. They would give us a place to stay. Really, it was just so nurturing and accommodating in ways that are pretty far opposite to some of these places that we've been in America."
Adds Monet, "Some days we would even sleep over at the venue or at the owner's house. Then the bands would come back in the morning and eat breakfast with us. I'm like, how do you all do that? But they don't work. They're not overworked over there. They just work enough to survive and they get paid a real wage and they're allowed to enjoy life."
Yet not everything is about making new friends and having adventures (even though that's almost always the case). Because Snailmate are also faced with some big questions as they tour more frequently and beyond the U.S.; namely, can they maintain their DIY roots or does this new chapter necessitate big changes?
"I feel like with DIY touring, there is a ceiling that you can get to where you have to take the next step," says Lander. "I definitely feel like we've been brushing up against that, especially on these last two tours where, unfortunately, the deal with the music business is you have to have connections and you have to start working with people who know people and who are in bed with other people. It becomes this thing where there's only so much you can do yourself before you have to start working with someone who knows."
To some extent, it's about making this "lifestyle" more feasible, and not merely scraping by.
"I want it to be sustainable but I also don’t want to be working a shitty job when I'm 80 years old," says Monet. "So it was really nice to have some kind of savings because with DIY touring, there's no way to have a savings account. All the money goes back into the band and it's just filtered into new merch and stuff like that." The pair relish "the idea of being able to do bigger shows, to be able to retire one day, and not have to sweep floors when I'm 80 years old and in pain," adds Monet.
The core problem, then, is potentially giving up some agency as a unit.
"And it sucks; it doesn't feel good to want to relinquish that," Lander says. "Whether you're relinquishing your own agency as a musician, and doing what you want, or if you feel like you're selling out completely by working with a label or a band that has been through the wringer and everything like that. But it's the reality of the music business, unfortunately."
At the end of the day, it might be about relinquishing certain preconceived notions.
"Yeah, you want to grow. The reason you put in all this work, and we've put in so much money and time, is because we want to grow," Lander says. "And if that requires signing a contract with a booking agent who can get us in up to some different doors or a record label, you have to give up the whole 'purity' of not selling out. It's just part of growth; it's a new job."
Ultimately, it's about framing this conversation in the proper context.
"If this is selling out, it's sort of doing it in a way that's at least in service of the music and in service of us being able to do what we want, even if it feels a little weird or a little icky," says Lander. "Again, it's just part of the process and it should ultimately be in service of trying to entertain people. Are we trying to put out the best music possible? Yes, and so maybe that's okay to relinquish that power."
As vital as these conversations are to the band's future, they're not easy to have, and do cause added friction. And if Snailmate's already good at anything (besides music), it's picking fights.
"Wow, God. There has always been tension," says Monet. "We only argue about petty shit because we do spend too much time together. I hate how Kalen chews — it drives you crazy listening to him chew, but I've come to the conclusion I have to listen to him chew for the rest of my life." However, Monet adds, "We can let an argument go for a show. No one would ever know we're in an argument at a show."
But as Lander adds, the "bickering" plays an important function in the band.
"We argue a lot, but it's healthy," he says. "Knowing our roles, I'm more than happy to drive for six hours straight if I know that Bentley is on his computer sending emails and doing business stuff that I don't want to do for the band."
In the grand scheme of things, all the nitpicking in the world, even when you're stuck in a car for eight hours at a time, is in service of something all the more important and profound.
"We want the same thing, and we know it intrinsically," says Monet. "We both have the same ideas of how a tour should be operated. We both have the same goals as far as how big we want to get as a band and the size of the rooms we want to play and the opportunities that we want to take. Whether it's something small, like how much we love hot sauce, or something bigger, like our values as LGBTQ individuals and how we view our morals and ethics as people. We're on the same page about pretty much everything when it comes to that."
And that cohesion and unity has helped them grow as both a band and individuals alike.
"During the pandemic, we changed a lot of things," says Lander. "Whether it was Bentley's transition, or me dieting and exercising, and us both going to therapy. We've been improving a lot of things about ourselves and that has obviously helped our interpersonal dynamic. I'd recommend that to anyone."
With any luck, they'll be able to enjoy their "new selves" and the many sights despite what Lander calls a "hardcore" European touring schedule. Because once they’re back home later this year, there's still more work to be done. That includes finishing their long-awaited new album, Stress Sandwich.
"We're weighing our options as far as the best way to release that and then tour in support of it," says Lander. "Whether it's solely in support of the record by ourselves, or we're piggybacking on to hopefully a bigger tour and getting in front of a fresh audience."
But no matter what the future holds, and whatever shape it might eventually take, Snailmate remains committed to growing the band, entertaining audiences, and touring until the wheels fall off.
"We can't take it for granted," Lander says of touring. "I feel like a lot of people did before COVID. So we're just going to keep busting our ass. There were so many dates [canceled] during COVID, and I'm sure that'll happen again in our lifetime. We're just going to keep touring until we can't. Whatever that means."
