‘November 2008’ is a rather peculiar album. In fact, we struggle to keep it inside a genre box, or even to give it a pool of references. That’s a good thing, to be fair; it signals Rico Fabello‘s artistic enlightenment, and his ability to operate outside of common formulas. In general terms, one could consider ‘November 2008’ as a functional blend of progressive rock and dream-folk, all tinged with a gloomy aura and eclectic instrumentation.
Fabello’s vocals still deliver a wealth of approachable melodies that entice sadness and nostalgia, a quality that reinforces the record’s lyrical quality, here focused on the concept of impermanence. What follows is distant, hazy imagery, perfectly resonating with the album’s kaleidoscopic aural character. What’s more, every song is either in 3/4 or 6/8, all more or less built around the D musical key. That’s how specific and dedicated Rico is; he’s moving with purpose and resolve, favouring personal expression over commercial goals.
Intrigued by the project, we caught up with Fabello to learn more about his artistry and future goals… interview below!
‘November 2008’ is your latest album, a hypnotic and crepuscular blend of gloomy folk and gritty rock material. It might not be a record for everyone, but for listeners who are used to melancholic and introspective stuff, it will certainly be a match. For instance, I am a big fan of Radiohead and Death Cab for Cutie, as well as math outfits such as Battles; so I relate to the LP quite a lot, at least in its aural form…
What I would love to ask you first concerns this tension between gentler folk tones and grittier episodes. It’s almost a dualism of sorts, if you think about it. How do you navigate such an eclectic sonic panorama?
Melancholy, despair, grief, and anger are contiguous emotions, so when I express them through music, it feels natural to slip between the quiet introspection of indie folk and the bristling loudness of alt rock. The whole album also rests on a shared musical foundation that keeps it cohesive through the dynamic shifts: every song is in a major tonality; revolves around the related key centres of D, G, and A; sways in 3 or 6 meter; and carries common dissonant harmony. But maybe the simpler answer is that I like all kinds of music, and I have no reservations about letting that range and contrast come through in my own.
There’s a strong cathartic component in ‘November 2008’, with natural imagery often used as bait for memories and nostalgic reflections. When you think about the album, what does it mean to you? Would you consider it a personal record?
It’s as personal as it gets. Honestly, it makes me feel sick how vulnerable I am publishing what feel like private journal entries from a dark period of my life. These songs were written 18 years ago by a 19-year-old dealing with heartbreak, loneliness, the loss of childhood, and a feeling that he was a waste of space and opportunity.
Resurrecting them has been intensely frightening, but satisfying—rearranging and recording them, singing lyrics I wrote as a teenager, and coming to terms with finally sharing them with the world. The pain behind these songs had been buried deep inside me for about as long as I’d been alive when I wrote them. Now I feel it can finally rest.
If you had to choose a favourite song on the album, what would that be?
Damn. That’s hard. I’ll cheat and choose two, for different reasons.
“Yellow Tile Floor” for being as raw as it is: just guitar and voice, recorded in one take (unlike most of the record), with no embellishments and no fluff. It was the only way I felt I could properly capture that pain: imagining a world where my miscarried siblings had a chance at life, and knowing that, in reality, I stole their chance and was, at the time, wasting it. You can even hear me walk away from the mic as the final chord rings out.
And “Stranger” simply for being the best song I think I’ve ever written. It’s not my strongest lyrically, but in every other way it nails what it sets out to do. You think you know someone, until you don’t, and their sudden absence leaves a freezing cold hole in your life. And there was no other way to end a record like this than on a deliberately dissonant, unresolved chord.
Take us into your songwriting and production process; do you work with collaborators, or do you prefer to retain complete creative control?
All of these songs were written alone on an acoustic guitar, mostly in my dorm room at the University of Southern Maine in the fall and winter of 2008. I vividly remember writing “Luther Shimp” late at night in the basement of my childhood home, trying to stay quiet while I worked out the idea. I also remember finishing the lyrics to “Yellow Tile Floor” in my childhood bedroom, late at night, sobbing to myself as I accepted how lost I was in life.
On the production side, I arranged, recorded, mixed, and mastered everything myself in Logic. I prefer to write alone, and I prefer to produce alone. One thing I’m proud of is that I decided early on not to use any pitch correction on my vocals. Just don’t ask me how many takes it took to get the final result!
As I understand it, you come from a rather musical family. This is often a crucial aspect in a child’s musical development, and we find that many artists we talk to have grown up in a like-minded environment. Where does your love for music-making come from? Any crucial event or experience that played a pivotal role in it?
My father is a musician, so I grew up around guitar, piano, and drums. The piano sat in our entry hallway, and some of my earliest memories are of messing around on it. Drums were the first instrument I took seriously, at 8 or 9. I thought Shades in “That Thing You Do!” was the coolest guy I’d ever seen, and that was the start of it. My dad was very supportive. He shuttled me to and from drum lessons and let me bang around on his kit in our basement. I started playing bass around 12 and picked up guitar shortly after.
I didn’t take formal lessons on a melodic instrument until years later, when I started seriously preparing to apply to a selective music school. So I have a lot of fond memories of exploring music alone in my bedroom in those early days: discovering the major scale on my own, stumbling on the connection between the notes on my guitar and the notes on the piano, and piecing together how harmony and melody fit together.
At some point, my dad gave me my first 4-track tape recorder. I played with it constantly, and that’s where I first explored songwriting, recording, and production. I owe my dad a lot.
In terms of influences, what do you listen to? Do you have a favourite act?
I wish I could name influences that map neatly onto “November 2008”, but this album feels strange to me next to my last release, “July 1999”. That record was shaped by a handful of my favourite math rock artists, and the through line is clear as day. “November 2008” is harder to trace back to my own tastes. These songs don’t sound much like anything my favourite artists might have written.
Because they come from a very specific, contained stretch of my life, it might be more interesting to name who I was listening to most back then: Neutral Milk Hotel, Anthony Green, The Blood Brothers, The Number Twelve Looks Like You, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and The Fall of Troy.
I have noticed that you don’t maintain a social media presence, a choice that might surprise some of our readers, given that so much of the music industry is now carried by the social media giants. Is there a particular reason behind your choice?
When I left music school in 2008, I essentially relegated music to a hobby, and honestly, it’s been better that way. I have a day job. At 37, I’m not looking to strike it big in the music world. I just want to stay musical, stay creative, and get my music to the people it means something to. It isn’t a commercial endeavour at all.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want people to hear it. I do, which is why I’m talking to you! But to me, there’s a difference between promoting a record and promoting myself. A release campaign is about the music. It has a beginning and an end, and it puts the songs in front of people who are actively looking for something new to listen to. Social media asks for something else: a constant stream of content about me, between releases, for as long as I want to stay visible. I’d rather spend that energy making music, and let the songs speak when they’re ready.
Lastly, what’s next for Rico Fabello? What’s the best way to keep in touch with you?
This album has been 18 years in the making. Now that it’s out, I honestly don’t know what’s next, but I do have some ideas brewing, all very different but equally exciting. Find me on your streaming platform of choice and follow along!