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Being Dead are still bewildered by one of their earliest shows. The duo — Falcon Bitch (Juli Keller) and Shmoofy (Cody Dosier) — were at Carousel Lounge, a neighborhood dive bar in Austin that’s loosely carnival-themed, BYOL, and a space where, as Falcon Bitch describes, “there are no fucking rules.” Well, apparently there are some. After their set, her partner at the time got up on the mic and started reading poetry, unsolicited, until he was escorted from the stage.
Roughly seven years later, their gigs look a lot different. “I think we’re always trying to get people to make out,” Falcon Bitch says. “It’s a place for singles to hang out. We usually have revealing clothes, and we’re showing our muscles, so that encourages everyone to meet each other. It’s like a speed dating event, but it is also accepting. Cody usually does 10 to 50 pushups.”
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“Well, I’m trying to beat the world record,” he adds.
Throughout our call, it’s hard to get an earnest answer from the pair, whose devilish, shit-post-y humor rarely slips out of sight. There are tales of getting amnesia, being mercilessly heckled by their fans, and growing obsessed with a Magic 8 Ball while in the studio. At one point, Falcon Bitch starts reading straight from Wikipedia instead of giving a real response. It can get pretty confusing, but it’s never mean or intended to belittle the person on the other end. Perhaps it’s the best summation of what make Being Dead so exciting. They evade self-seriousness and disorient whoever’s willing to listen with laughter, making conversations feel like a long, freaky hallucination — a disposition that stretches across their music, as well. Their 2023 debut LP, When Horses Would Run, deployed wacky scenarios over jittery, off-kilter surf rock that felt indebted to their city’s psych roots (hometown hero Roky Erickson, in particular, whose weirdo sensibilities seem reincarnated within the band). There were references to acid trips, tree-worshiping hippie cults, and buffalo slaughtered by capitalistic greed. It allowed them to connect with hundreds of like-minded people who felt like they were in on the joke.
On their follow-up, EELS, Being Dead are recommitting to the strangeness while traveling up into the darker recesses of their psyche. The album is an even greater distillation of what makes their music so fascinating and catchy, offering another sonically adventurous, unpredictable palette (countrified punk, shoegaze, etc.) that unfurls across 16 tracks. “Godzilla Rises,” sung in a wistful, doe-eyed delivery, reels with deceit while sounding like it could be stomped out at a ’50s prom. “Problems” contends with debilitating self-loathing over a ridiculously cheery backdrop, whereas “Firefighters” is told from the POV of an overworked Dalmatian who dreams of living oceanside.
Of course, there are moments when realness peeks through the screen — just like glimpses of light on the record. Though it’s not clear when they met (varying responses include at Yale, their 10-year high school reunion, and Cinnabon), their friendship remains the most serious thing about a deeply unserious band, bolstered by years of trust, inside jokes, and mutual support. They frequently swap instruments and share vocal duties on nearly every track, transitioning with the technicality of a much older band. In the midst of “Van Goes,” Falcon Bitch and Shmoofy simultaneously go off on different rants that sound harmonious instead of chaotic. The duo tell me that they don’t struggle as collaborators, but they do draw from opposing reference points.
Shmoofy looks toward the past for inspiration, drawing from lots of punk and DIY music. “I’m a little picky. I don’t listen to any contemporary music unless it’s really good. Something about it irks me,” he admits. It can feel too glossy, too reliant on production to obscure poor songwriting. “I’m like, ‘This is going to age poorly.’ I just like lo-fi tape recordings. I think it’s always going to sound timeless and charming.” Meanwhile, Falcon Bitch immerses herself in modern-day music, trying to stay on top of what’s happening. “I like to know [about] and hear new things,” she says. She’s hesitant to rattle off specifics, not wanting to accidentally exclude any of her contemporaries, but cites Cindy Lee, @, and Water from Your Eyes, among others, as modern musicians who inspire and excite her. There are middle points, too. They both love Sweeping Promises, System of a Down, and Blood. Their differences, from the outside at least, keep the band dynamic and hopeful for a benevolent future. Still, their trolling never stays away for long, shooting back into the conversation like a shared reflex when considering what makes their partnership work.
“Cody brings bad boy energy that I don’t naturally have,” Falcon Bitch says without missing a beat. “I’m bad to the bone, which, in the schools of bad, is the opposite. Bad boy and bad to the bone are pretty different sides of the spectrum. I don’t think we could achieve what we do without both sides of the sphere.”
Elsewhere on EELS, “Rock n’ Roll Hurts” sticks out as a jaunty, endearing anthem that winds around the title phrase — and hardly anything else — for the entirety of the song. Toward the end, it includes giggles from their live bassist Ricky Moto (Nicole Roman-Johnston) — “the only beacon of light on the record,” Shmoofy jokes — that’ll make you smile unconditionally. To be fair, though, the band still aren’t clear on why exactly it hurts. “We were trying to think about that yesterday because that’s something that just feels really true within, and it’s hard to put into words,” Falcon Bitch considers. “It hurts! It’s heartbreaking. When the rock is true, there’s pain.”
“I think that’s why it’s so thrilling,” Shmoofy says. “It can be so dangerous and hurtful, and you can get wrapped up in it, but you got to ride it out if you really want to be rock ’n’ roll.”