![]() ![]() Meier says that they mostly focused on “white boy reggae,” packing their setlists full of, as Westfall explains, Sublime and Slightly Stoopid covers, and high-school rock band standards like “Heart of Gold” and “All Along the Watchtower.” After The Lumineers’ debut dropped in 2012, the duo worked “Ho Hey” into their repertoire. By high school, they were playing music at neighborhood parties for their parents’ friends. ![]() Since then, Meier and Westfall have been basically inseparable. He patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘It’s all good. I remember turning around, and there was Taylor. We were doing a drill together, and I couldn’t tackle this bigger guy. So I was like, ‘Oh, this dude.’ Then we ended up in the same peewee football league. “And on the first day of middle school that August, I heard she was going out with Taylor-some kid from the other school district. ![]() I asked her out on the last day of school, but then I didn’t see her the rest of the summer,” he says. “I had this girlfriend in the fifth grade, before there were cellphones. He’s immediately transported somewhere he’s a kid in the Midwest once again. When Westfall remembers aloud how he met Meier, his eyes light up, and a grin expands across his bearded face. Meier and Westfall both grew up outside of Columbus, Ohio, in a sprawling suburb where families water their lawns and football is basically a religion. But the seeds that grew into Caamp were planted even further back, when the future bandmates were still actual children. Lots of bands have origin stories that begin in high school or college. We wanna convince their fans why we fit-why we even exist.” “And it’s not a game or competition, but we are trying to win them over-capture their ears and eyes and hearts-in the 45 minutes we got onstage. They are here to hear The Lumineers, there’s no mistaking that,” says Meier. “We’re a pretty good match sonically with The Lumineers on this tour, but their fans are tenacious for them. Meier and the band-banjoist Evan Westfall, bassist Matt Vinson, keyboardist Joseph Kavalec and touring drummer Henry Allen-are intent not to let this opportunity slip by. Though the members of Caamp are currently rolling across the country on a 12-bunk tourbus-no small achievement for any musical act-their mode of transportation is still puny in comparison to The Lumineers’ touring juggernaut of multiple buses, trucks and a whole crew. It’s a leap forward for the band, introducing their songs to thousands upon thousands of new listeners. When he sits for this interview mid-June, Caamp is in the midst of a massive outdoor arena tour with modernfolk troubadours The Lumineers. “See through it all/ Like you’ve got a gold pocket looking glass,” he offers on “Sure Of.” “I hope when you’re looking back/ You look back with love.” They are not only songs about loss, forgiveness and understanding, but also celebrations of the everyday highs that balance out those devastating lows. Lavender Days is full of those songs- written as Meier recovered from a breakup in the heaviest days of the pandemic. You don’t realize until the time is right.” “Some songs are letters you write to your future self. But I listened to it during the following days and weeks, and it became medicine over time,” he says now. “I was feeling the same way I had felt for months and months, and I was just questioning myself-my mind was full of self-hatred, misty-eyed thoughts, doubt and dark. And that’s exactly where he wants his fans to be. For that minute and 15 seconds, listeners are right there with him, a few hours before the sun rises. ![]() But where those 11 selections are crisp, clean recordings, the “Sure Of” that appears on Lavender Days is Meier’s original iPhone voice note, completely unadorned and unprofessional. It arrives after 11 sparkling, stripped-down, and straightforward folk anthems-each one catchier than the one before it. “All I know is the rain has left me still standing/ And you can’t be sure of the morning,” he sings, his gravelly voice so hushed it sounds like he’s trying not to wake a lover who isn’t even there.Ī year and a half later, “Sure Of” is the stunning last cut on Lavender Days, the third album from Caamp-the Columbus, Ohio band that Meier has led since 2012. He’s reminding himself that it won’t always hurt this bad. He picks up his phone and presses record, and “Sure Of” tumbles out-a minute and 15 seconds of whispered reassurance. But then a melody begins to grow, like a vine winding from his strumming fingers to his lips. He picks up his guitar and fills that space nothing special, just some familiar chords. He’s all alone, the sounds of silence pressing down on him. Morning is coming-he knows it-but right now the sun feels so far away. January 13, 2021-it’s nearly 4 a.m., and Taylor Meier is in a hole. ![]()
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