This harried attempt to find solid footing is simply the nature of the world we live in. Chris Carrabba is a product of this world, and he too is doing the best he can to maintain his place in the world. As the man behind the acoustically-inclined emotive act Dashboard Confessional, Carrabba recently reached a plateau in the band’s existence: their ten year anniversary.
When asked about how his original expectations for the band match up against the current state of Dashboard Confessional, Carrabba shows a sense of forthrightness that will become something of a theme throughout our 25-minute conversation.
“Oh no. I’ve definitely exceeded my original expectations for the band 100 times over,” says the well-spoken Carrabba, reached on the line from his home outside of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.
“I adjusted that vision when I realised that this thing of mine could possibly be a success. There was a possibility that I had the opportunity to make this my life. That’s a grand goal, but I looked at it in a very pragmatic way. Treating the opportunity with the respect it deserved and not blowing through it in a fit of self-importance. And because of that, I picked my spots as well. I’ve been grateful every step of the way. So far, I’m right where I hoped I’d be, but not where I expected I’d be.”
Carrabba is quick to add however that although he’s pleased with how his career has turned out, he’s still careful not to get too comfortable.
“Although, I will say, it has been awhile since I’ve put out a record. There’s always that artistic frustration that you’re resting on your laurels. I certainly don’t want to be trading in my old stock.”
For the 36-year-old, his ten years with Dashboard Confessional can bottle down to simply a state of mind. Carrabba believes that while his records are beginning to get on in years, each individual song comes to life in a different manner every evening.
“What’s great is that the records that I make are really just a means to necessitate a live show. The songs continue to then grow endlessly. Even though the songs I play can be ten years old, they’re really only as old as that day once I start playing them onstage.”
What started with Swiss Army Romance, Carraba’s debut with Dashboard Confessional has evolved into a career that spans six full lengths and five EPs. Yet it was Swiss Army Romance which established his beguiling acoustic push as something of a cult favourite.
When it came time to celebrate the ten year anniversary of the record, Carrabba admits he was initially a little taken aback.
“I don’t ever get away from what I’ve done. I’m still having the career that I started. I certainly don’t look at it from a nostalgic point of view, though that may be a factor in the listener’s experience. But to me, these songs I write, they’ve been my life every day. Certainly professionally. So I didn’t look at it in terms of a celebration. I think I was facilitating a forgone conclusion. The year running up to the anniversary, people kept asking me what I was going to do. And it didn’t occur to me to celebrate it beyond something personal. You know, maybe just go out to dinner.”
Carrabba eventually re-released the record with hand-written lyrics, amongst other additions aimed at Dashboard’s legions of fans.
“When I see that kind of thing from Morrissey or something, I get excited,” says Carrabba. “But still, I’m always moving forward. I don’t love looking backwards for anything other than…cautionary tales,” he says with a chuckle. “You get in trouble when you look backwards and celebrate yourself too much.”
If anyone were to allow themselves the opportunity to celebrate their work, Carrabba would be justified in doing so. His songs swing to the emotional side of the fence, forgoing powerful cerebral trips for connections that he hopes will stay permanent.
Yet when asked if he considers the intense connections his fans form with his songs when writing, Carraba understands that notion is easier said than done. He’s been trying for 10 years, but Carrabba seems better suited to do things his way.
“A knock on me, maybe justified, is that the songs are too sad. They’re for sad people, but I don’t think they’re for people to be sad. I think they’re to bring people out of sadness. At least that’s the purpose they’ve served in my life.”
“For me, the song-writing process is very reactionary,” he continues. “You’re chasing or reacting to new things happening around you. And anytime I’ve stopped in that process to consider changing a line or something because I feel like that’s the kind of thing people might like. Or that’s a feeling I know others have had and they’ll be able to relate to, I’ve really missed the mark. And that’s disappointing. Not every song is going to be resonant. But I have been lucky in that I’m willing to chase a song. And I’m willing to be honest within a song and to a degree, leave myself open to criticism. And that point, and only at that point, will I be effective in connecting with people. I guess I’m not interested in being cool. I’d rather be connected to people.”
BY JOSHUA KLOKE
