Hello Caller

Hello Caller

 Austin, Texas, USA

Dark folk, jangle rock. Hello Caller takes catchy arrangements of cello, trumpet, and xylophone and layers them over a solid foundation of guitar, banjo, bass, and drums. Using these, they speak out an intense modern folk-anthem vibe, with influences ranging from Andrew Bird to the Beach Boys.


The songs on Austin quintet Hello Caller’s debut LP ‘Dark Twain,’ released in November 2012, are melodically stunning – “transcendent” (MTV Hive) harmonies woven with trumpet and cello, interspersed with jangly guitars, banjo and twinkling xylophones. But a closer listen reveals an unsettling feeling that deeper mysteries are veiled behind their outward beauty.

The band’s singular sound has earned them a loyal following in their hometown since they formed in 2010, resulting in SXSW gigs and packed shows with folky contemporaries like Shakey Graves, who contributes guest vocals on ‘Dark Twain,’ and Wild Child, whose cellist Sadie Wolfe previously played in the band. Their early demo recordings drew comparisons to Elliott Smith, Midlake, and Sufjan Stevens, as fans around the country discovered their sound through word of mouth and blog write-ups.

The Brooklyn-based tastemaker blog I Guess I’m Floating showed early support for ‘Dark Twain,’ comparing Hello Caller’s sound to the “earthy, emotional appeal” of the bands made famous by Saddle Creek Records in the late 90's-early 00's, updated with “the textured instrumentation and baroque pop sound you hear in acts today like Grizzly Bear and Beirut.”

As their music spreads around the country and their loyal fan base continues to grow, Hello Caller are quickly becoming an outstanding new force in Austin’s folk scene and beyond.


We Caught Fire

Written By: Brian Ferguson

We're all alone here, the city's quiet. You're drinking lonely, don't be shy. Your thoughts are aimless, your lips are dry. You're speaking only when required. We're taking shelter and building fires. We thought we'd do fine.

The streets are empty, the gas is dry. We're leaving only when required. Your hands are cold here, right next to mine. We saw things get dire. We thought we could die here.

Go raiding the stores, we'll throw bricks through glass doors. We'll go in and pull out what we find there. These pacing patrols of the neighbors will show that these places are known to be violent.

We called to cease fire. We're caught hand in jar. He thought we were liars; he says we conspire. We thought we caught fire.

Our stomach's empty; it hurts to sigh. We're missing only what's required. Our shelves are barren, our faucets dry. We thought we caught fire!

Box Above the Belt

Written By: Brian Ferguson

Well, these things here are your clothes, put them on so we can go out in the rain. Come and see these people fight, it happens almost every night of the week. They're bleeding from their mouths, drinking water and spitting out into the drain. In this mellow streetlight gold, steady hands and broken souls, face to face.

Outside this rundown city bar, things just cannot seem to be harder to explain. But they're thinking with their mouths and drinking all of these things out into the day. "Please let me see all your cards," or so they'll say. "These pieces we have picked apart, just because."

Our old gloves left on the shelf, we'll put them on so we can box above the belt. Routine duty speaks for those of us who don't have anything to sell. Well you've been chasing all these hours, sitting up and standing down. Are you okay? Wearing out your skin and bones, you look just like you've seen a ghost. Are you looking at me?

You're speaking in a lonely tongue. What did you say? You said, "I curse myself for what I've done. Are we okay?" These reasons we have picked apart will hold their sway. They say what we have seen will now be lost, just because.

In the Full Moonlight

Written By: Brian Ferguson

Well there's a place in his blank, green eyes where things with fangs and sharp teeth hide. They say his glare will make your brightness blind; don't be afraid or be surprised. And he will swing with all his might into the trees with his knife. Sharpens the blade here on a steep incline, out in the rays of this pale moonlight.

The children have seen his soul and think they're who he's coming for.

So now in anger he'll swear he's right. His arms are flailing; he'll fight for what's contained in this great big lie and what remains now of his life. And he is strangled with breathing right, with bulging veins and bloodshot eyes. With human language at distant sight, he'll find his way out into the night.

But when this moonlight's full, he'll know what he's been longing for. We're sure he'll lose control, but we won't be around to know. We won't be around to know.

When the Wind Blows

Written By: Brian Ferguson

This building's tall; we'll climb and sneak our way inside. And if we fall without a net, we'll surely die. In sinking fog, it's hard to see how high we've climbed.

We're in the breeze, we're getting clean when the wind blows. We're in the trees, we're climbing in through your windows.

Ooo ooh ooohhh

The quickest way from there to here is the way we came, without the front doors. We'll disappear; we're staying free without a name, without a nickel.

They know who we are because we say that's who we are. They know who we are because we said that's who we are.

We'll say we are who we say we are.

We'll say we are who we say we are, who we say we are.