Sleigh Bells don’t do creative tension. “We’re just really not that band,” says Derek Miller, the duo’s guitarist and producer. “Some of my favorite bands couldn’t even stand each other. And that’s fine—that tension created a lot of really good creativity. But that’s never been the case with us.”
Not only is Sleigh Bells light on conflict, but in conversation, their mutual affection is nearly contagious. Miller and vocalist Alexis Krauss interact with a familiarity typically more akin to close family than to co-workers, tag-teaming stories, swapping inside jokes, and liberally complimenting each other. Their new album Bunky Becky Birthday Boy feels like a direct product of the duo’s camaraderie, a confrontational but gleeful blast of the band’s signature noise pop.
Krauss characterizes the recording of the album as seamless, at least in part due to closer proximity between the two; Miller had moved to Hudson Valley, which made in-person collaboration easy. They were deliberately patient, refusing to rush songs that hadn’t yet realized their full potential. “Derek has a really good ability to see the long game,” Krauss says. “There’ll be songs that I really fall in love with, and Derek will be like, ‘You know what? I just don’t think this is there yet, we should hold onto it.’ He ends up being right. [He has] this ability to hold on to a riff or an idea and have it be born again.”
One such case is lead single “Wanna Start a Band?,” elements of which have been rattling around in the band’s collective head for more than a decade. The song’s massive, bludgeoning riff is undeniable; Miller has a clear recollection of the moment it emerged, not yet fully formed but nonetheless undeniable. “I remember messing with that in 2014. The rest of the song wasn’t there, but everybody who makes records has a mental Rolodex of existing sessions that have something special going on, but just aren’t there yet.”
“Bunky Pop,” the album’s grinning, sugary opener, has an unexpectedly melancholic core. “It’s over-the-top,” Miller says, “it’s very hyper and enthusiastic. But there’s an emotional plot twist, as well—it’s ultimately about loss.” He bills it as a “tribute/anthem” for Alexis’s dog, Riz, who passed away in December 2023. When Riz’s health began to decline, the band wanted a song that distilled her energy. “So, what’s a dog like?” Miller asks. “They can be destructive, but not in a sinister way. They come into the room and chew your shoes up. Maybe they shit on the floor, but you still love them. Dogs are hyper enthusiastic. They aren’t capable of hiding their emotions, they aren’t capable of self-consciousness—those are things I kind of aspire to.”
“Dogs are hyper enthusiastic. They aren’t capable of hiding their emotions, they aren’t capable of self-consciousness—those are things I kind of aspire to.” — Derek Miller
Bunky Becky Birthday Boy strikes an adept balance, calibrating the youthful energy of Treats, the band’s landmark 2010 debut, alongside unmistakable glimmers of introspection, such as the album’s closer, “Pulse Drips Quiet.” “If somebody put a gun to my head and said, ‘You have to play one Sleigh Bells song,’ at the moment, that’s the song I would play,” Krauss says. “I was intimidated by it, and that’s always a good feeling because it pushes you to do your best work. It’s one of our best marriages of what Derek and I do well.”
“Pulse” is as weighty as anything the band has ever released, but it ultimately closes the album out on a hopeful note. “I heard this thing the other day about hope being a discipline, and you have to be rigorous,” Krauss continues. “It’s easy to lose hope, it’s easy to succumb to the pain and the despair. [‘Pulse Drips Quiet,’] to me, is just a reminder that, ‘No, no, no, you can do this. Yeah, it’s fucking hard, but you can do it.’ I just love it as an ending to the album.”
With a new batch of songs to unveil to fans, the band sounds reinvigorated heading into their upcoming tour. “It feels like a privilege to have multiple albums to choose from,” Krauss says, who expects the upcoming shows to feature “the strongest set we’ve ever had.” But considerable physical preparation is necessary for them to live up to their own expectations of what a Sleigh Bells show should be. “It’s a very, very high energy, athletic show,” Miller says. “It’s not necessarily about flawless performance. I’m happy to sacrifice a little bit of precision to run around and get everybody hyped. That’s what I feel the job is, to give everyone a great time.”
The band’s touring dynamic will be different in at least one significant way: Krauss is now a mother, and her son Wilder will be joining them on the road. Krauss is aware it will present new challenges, but is looking forward to it. “There’s gonna be all the feelings. Because that, to me, is what parenthood is: all the fucking feelings, all the time,” she says. “Some days that’s the best thing in the world, because it just rips you wide open, and other days it’s just like, ‘I need a break.’ It’ll be all of those things, but he’s a pretty energetic, adaptable, fun kid. I think he’ll thrive in that environment, so I’m really stoked.”
“It’s easy to succumb to the pain and the despair. ‘Pulse Drips Quiet,’ is just a reminder that, ‘Yeah, it’s fucking hard, but you can do it.’ I just love it as an ending to the album.” — Alexis Krauss
When they aren’t on the road, Krauss and Miller are constantly exchanging thoughts, rummaging for the next idea that creates a spark. “I spend a lot of the day banging on synths, drum machines, trying to find cool riffs and chords on a guitar, trying to put Alexis in a position to sound great,” Miller says. But their creative compatibility doesn’t mean the process is anxiety-free. “Krauss, I feel like I’m always just trying to blow your mind,” Miller says. “No matter what I’ve put in the email, I’ll always end up like, ‘If there’s nothing going on here, I was just messing around anyway. I don’t really care.’ When really, I’m sweating bullets, like, ‘Oh my god, I really hope she likes this.’”
But for all their self-directed criticism, Krauss and Miller can sense it when they’re onto something. “You’re your own toughest critic,” Krauss says. “You know when you’re sending your best and you know when you’re slightly missing the mark.” And as long as their pursuit continues to yield results that excite them, they have no plans to stop. “I’m pleasantly surprised and just really hyped—[the fact that] it still feels like that is a good sign,” Miller says. “The stakes still feel high for me.” FL
