[Listen to the full episode on our Consequence UNCUT podcast, which presents the complete interview unedited for your listening pleasure below or wherever you get your podcasts.]
“The world is gonna world. Is that a saying?” Brandon Boyd asks. The Incubus frontman is referring to the general idea of “shit happens,” but also two very specific moments for the band — September of 2001, when Incubus were days away from kicking off their US tour in support of fourth album Morning View, and 2020, when they released their Trust Fall (Side B) EP and planned on taking Morning View out on the road for a 20th anniversary tour.
Both periods were marred by turbulence out of the California group’s control: The September 11th terrorist attacks casting a shadow over this new album they couldn’t wait to share, and 20 years later, the COVID-19 pandemic preventing the group from revisiting the album that propelled them to their peak. “The phrase ‘best laid plans’ comes to mind,” Boyd clarifies. “But music, for us, it’s been a constant. It’s sort of a continuum, and one that we joyously approach and keep getting joyously pulled back into.”
For a rock band with a 30+ year history, Incubus are no stranger to stormy weather — and now, as they gear up to release their re-recorded version of Morning View (titled Morning View XXIII), they’re looking back on one of the biggest moments in their career with a renewed sense of gratitude. While Morning View XXIII is a faithful re-hash of the album front to back (plus a few newly-added sonic detours), it’s a great excuse to rediscover the glory of these songs. Morning View 20 would have probably been a stickier title, but alas — 23 will do.
As Incubus found themselves recording Morning View in 2001 at the Stern House in Malibu, a short drive from their hometown of Calabasas, CA, their song “Drive” became a top 10 hit. Meanwhile, a 25 year-old Brandon Boyd was dealing with heartbreak, and the quintet had a unique opportunity to capture everyone’s attention.
“It was such a weird, wonderful, heartbreaking, but also revelatory period of my life,” Boyd recalls. “I was learning a lot about myself in that kind of quiet grieving… it was such a strange, dichotomous moment where I was sad, a bit morose probably, but then we were winning at the same time, in a way.”
