The Sam Fogarino Experience

As the charismatic sticks figure for iconic New York band Interpol, the 39-year-old drummer has often been relegated to the back of the stage. Now, with Magnetic Morning, he's ready for the bright lights.

Adam Franklin and Sam Fogarino of Magnetic Morning.

Sam Fogarino doesn’t get much face time as the drummer for Interpol. Easygoing and affable—the “Switzerland” of the group, he's been known to say—the 39-year-old rock icon began drumming while in his teens. By the time he joined Interpol in 2000, his résumé boasted over ten years of experience with bands like the Ton-Ups, the Wahoos, and post-punk South Floridians, the Holy Terrors. His current side project, Magnetic Morning, has him collaborating with Adam Franklin of the British shoe-gazing band Swervedriver. Their new 5-song EP, which hits stores later this week, is at once distinct and dreamy: the sonic marriage of two indie heavyweights. We caught up with Fogarino to talk about the record, Jacques Cousteau, and shoveling horse manure.

BLACKBOOK: You’re relocating to Georgia?

SAM FOGARINO: It’s kind of a cool artistic enclave, actually. Sometimes it’s more progressive than Williamsburg. It’s just so steeped in art and music that it only made sense to move. We wanted space, and we know a lot of people down there, so we bought a huge house for the price of New York studio.

BB: Well, New York will be sad to see you go.

SF: New York isn’t losing anything. If anything, it’ll be gaining a more amiable, friendly Sam.

BB: How would you describe the Magnetic Morning sound?

SF: It’s steeped in aggressive rock music. At the root of it all, if you strip away the sonic atmosphere—the reverb—it’s pretty rocking stuff. And we both have an affinity for that. We came together with a mutual appreciation of bands like Primal Scream.

BB: The EP also pays homage to the Kinks.

SF: You can’t go wrong with a Ray Davies track. That was Adam’s idea. “The Way Love Used to Be” is such an obscure song that I’d never heard it before. It’s funny because our version sounds more like a Kinks song than the original.

BB: How did you and Franklin partner up?

SF: Adam wanted me to play drums for him. And I was busy, you know—we were writing Interpol’s last record. So I was like, “To be honest, I don’t want to play drums in another band.” Eventually, after hanging out and becoming friends, we decided to give it a shot. All we had was stuff I’d collected over the past 10 years. A lot of it was written on the back of the Interpol tour bus.

BB: Do you write lyrics too?

SF: I start with chord progressions. I don’t like to put words in people’s mouths at all.

BB: So there’ll never be a Sam Fogarino Experience, just you and a drum kit?

SF: Oh, that would be awful, wouldn’t it? I have such a pet-peeve with singing drummers.

BB: But you are so often the spokesperson for Interpol!

SF: It’s because I have a big mouth. [Laughs.] There’s a bit of that frustrated, “I wish I could have been a frontman” there.

BB: How is this experience different from working with Interpol?

SF: Interpol is very compartmentalized. We’re all in that band because of our strengths, not because of our other abilities. And, obviously, I’m the most proficient at playing the drums. So that is what I do in Interpol.

BB: Growing up, were there any musicians that you admired or tried to emulate?

SF: I was fed a lot of different types of rock music through a lot of different characters when I was growing up, my mother being one of them. Actually, she still is. She played piano all the time, and blared Neil Young in the house. It was probably 25 years later, when I was in my 20s, that I noticed the music she had been feeding me. So I have a big affinity for what is now called Classic Rock, for David Bowie, Neil Young, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, and a lot of old R&B.

BB: Did your mother teach you piano?

SF: No, she played by ear, and that’s how I do everything too. So she taught me this lack of fear: If you want do something, just do it. If you want to learn the rules, fine. If you don’t, don’t.

BB: So you were never really taught—

SF: —anything! Except to read and write.

BB: You started drumming when you were 12 or 13. Earlier, did you have any other aspirations?

SF: I wanted to be an oceanographer. My first childhood hero was Jacques Cousteau. My wife and I later ended up doing a dive off the island of Cozumel, at the reef Cousteau had discovered in the ‘60s! It was an homage.

BB: Do you dive a lot then?

SF: I can’t because my ears are too sensitive. I can’t go below forty feet. So there goes that. I had a hobby outside of music and it lasted a couple of dives.

BB: You used to work at the Williamsburg vintage clothing store, Beacon’s Closet. Any other odd-jobs?

SF: It’s kind of funny you ask. On tour, I’ll have the most random conversations with a bandmate, and he’ll be like, “Oh yeah, I’ve done that for a living.” And it’ll be something like shoveling horse manure. I think I’ve done every odd job out there just to be able to play music. I can drive a forklift like a motherfucker.