Cover feature published in Southeast Performer:

The cover: link.

With all the useless ideas that are in the world because some sort of accident took place, it’s encouraging to note that some of the best bands formed in the complete absence of logic, foresight or practicality. When Brian McGrath and Nathan Jones first started collaborating together, the two had no idea what would eventually become of the project they had named Mantissa. At the time they were merely working on a compilation-only track with members of fellow Lazyline Records band Fairline Parkway. The song was titled “The Ladder Failed.” The story of Mantissa could have ended there.

Years later, Jones became involved with starting Atlanta’s Goodnight Records with future Mantissa member Keith Vogelsong. Goodnight Records soon became one of the most closely-watched indie labels in the city, signing the likes of the Orphins, the Press, and Atlanta's the Close. In a little under two years of existence, the label has established itself as a significant part of the independent music scene.

Then Jones left for New York, still maintaining some label operations via email. Mantissa went through several line-up changes and additions before arriving at its present four-piece status, comprised of McGrath, Vogelsong, Marc Cuba and Mackenzie Cole. The once studio-only project is now a full live band, currently working on a follow-up to Building a Working Model that they expect will sound quite different from their debut while keeping the energy that made the band seem like a good idea in the first place.

Following the release of Building a Working Model, Mantissa was fully accepted as a band, even if the reality was somewhat unclear. The minimalism found on their debut was often labeled “slow-core.” While Mantissa certainly shares conceptual common ground with Low, Red House Painters and assorted lo-fi projects, the sound of the album was more due to necessity than because of their influences. “I don’t think it was ever really a conscious aesthetic choice,” says McGrath. “It was more a product of the fact that there really was no band when we started recording. I think that if we had found a drummer or bassist that the songs would have ended up being very different. I definitely like the way that the first record sounds and our newer material isn’t too dissimilar, but I would also imagine that it will sound a little more upbeat.”

After expanding to a four-piece, albeit with an until-recently ever-changing line-up, Mantissa found that they could in fact play shows. The members of Mantissa have different opinions about how the band’s live show took form, but they all agree that the live environment is worlds apart from what they try to bring across on record.

McGrath finds that he has more freedom in the studio to achieve sounds that are either extremely difficult or nearly impossible to pull off in a live setting. The studio also allows him to give in to the sort excesses that jam bands routinely bore audiences with. “I kind of like fucking around in a studio,” explains McGrath. “I’ve never been a fan of fucking around on stage. Maybe if I were a better musician I would feel more comfortable with fucking around on stage. Plus, I really like the sounds that are possible when you’re working in a recording studio. One thing that brought us all together was our admiration for making random sounds. And so there are parts on the albums that aren’t necessarily part of our live show and I don’t think they need to be. Like when you go to a Crooked Fingers show, the show is very different from the album. I like bedroom-y records but I don’t want to go out to a bar and hear music that someone might play in their bedroom. If the live show is the same thing as the record, then I don’t see why I have to do both.”

Typically, when a band begins as the brainchild of one or two members before expanding to include other musicians, the band is officially considered “broken up” when the creative spark is gone. However, Jones’ departure merely marked the end of one phase for the band. His collaboration with McGrath still forms the basis of much of their work, but since his relocation Mantissa has taken on new and different qualities. Still, Jones’ presence is felt by all of the members, several of whom are strongly in favor of receiving his input for the next album. “We might give him something,” says Vogelsong. “He also still runs the label with me. But we think we might record a few tracks and then give some to him and Jimmy Ether, who we recorded the last album with, and see what they come up with.”

I’d like to continue to work with Nathan,” adds McGrath, “but I also know he’s probably got a lot going on in New York. And I don’t know how feasible a long distance situation would be.” Ultimately, a Postal Service-type arrangement may be more complicated than Mantissa would like to take on, especially with their goal of releasing the album by early Spring of 2006. However, regardless of whether Jones or Ether is able to physically contribute to the album, both have played their part in making Mantissa what it is today.

Some of the best bands form purely by accident. Conversely, some of the worst bands get together through calculated steps and marketing strategies. In Mantissa’s case, their formation was a result of the former and every step since has been the result of chance occurrences and unexpected developments. Mantissa’s music is often carefully orchestrated, but much of what has influenced them was unpredictable and in another world could have been a recipe for disaster. Or at least boredom.

But boring Mantissa clearly are not, and the attention they have received despite never seeking anything more than another outlet through which to record music is a testament to their unplanned ingenuity. Though most who have been involved with Mantissa have or had at least one other band or project, the current line-up is primarily focused on where involvement with this band will lead, creatively and personally. For a band with next to zero expectations to start with, Mantissa has evolved into something few could have predicted. Though they still have much to prove now that their base of contributors has solidified to an extent, Mantissa aren’t concerned with anyone else’s standards apart from their own.

Review of Mantissa by Jeff Clark in Stomp and Stammer:

Atlanta outfit Mantissa -- anchored by Brian McGrath and Nathan Jones, with selected outside assistance -- offers calm amidst chaos on their entrancing album, Building a Working Model. Ten disconnected dispatches for lost, lonely souls everywhere, these are simple, melodic poptones achieved with not-so-simple means, built upon spidery minimalism and occasionally atypical percussion. Bedroom art-mope from the mumbly guy in class no one noticed. Worth a listen, but it's better if you are already bummed out.

Review of Mantissa from PerformerMag:

Overall the production is phenomenal. It maintains a thoughtful balance between real drum sounds and electronic percussion within the songs to alter tempo and to delineate changes in the song's mood. There is an abundance of sounds present on the record and all are beautifully recorded.

Review of Mantissa from Tokion:

Ultra upfront whispered vocals and tiny bits of sparkling guitar laid over acoustic and electro beats -- a sweetly romantic thing ala Seam, Crooked Fingers and Haywood. The ache reaches a high point with [the song] 'HS dance,' about a gloriously misguided attempt at a rave: 'This is the last dance of the year, here come the lasers, here come the glow sticks.'

Feature Article on Mantissa in Creative Loafing:

Making the most of misfortune is a way of life for shoe-gazing glitch-rockers Mantissa. Since forming the Atlanta group in 2001, guitarist Nathan Jones and vocalist Brian McGrath have endured burglary and the loss of their main mode of recording, forcing them to revise their approach to making music. But such mishaps have only strengthened the band.

Jones and McGrath began writing material mostly on a laptop, mimicking live instrumentation as closely as possible. The liner notes of their debut, Building a Working Model, contain a laundry list of instruments and performers that aren't actually on the album.

"It's a joke," says McGrath. "Everything on the record, aside from Adam Overton's percussions, was done on a computer. The names are real, but they aren't playing those instruments."

In a karmic twist of fate, McGrath's home was burglarized shortly after they put out the record. The thieves made off with his laptop and a few other items. To compensate for the lack of a computer, the two adjusted the songs to fit the tools at hand, employing bassist Marc Cuba and drummer Robert Hafken.

"We did everything backward," Jones says. "We recorded an album and then had to learn how to play the songs. The goal now is to bring the live and computer elements together. But not having a computer makes it difficult."

Review of Mantissa from Junkmedia.org:

The paralyzing melancholy of Brian McGrath's songwriting first grabbed me in 1994 when I received a tape in the mail with six tracks by an upstart Chicago trio called Wendyfix. McGrath was one of the act's songwriters, and shared those duties with a classy fellow who gained some renown fronting the criminally overlooked and now defunct Haywood. The mixtape is mine and you can't have it, but there is a Wendyfix seven-inch featuring McGrath's "Silence" on the B-side that's well worth tracking down. Particularly if, like me, you are smitten by Building A Working Model.

Mantissa, a partnership of McGrath and laptopper Nathan Jones that is abetted by a bevy of friends, bills itself as lying stylistically between the Notwist and Red House Painters, but that doesn't really cover it. What Mantissa delivers is a mature take on mid '90s indie pop. All the hooks and understated vocals from McGrath's earlier work remain, but they are dolled up with sophisticated compositions and imaginative production. Mantissa's arsenal includes complementary laptop beats and live drumming, as well as guitars, bass, a fleet of machines that go ping and some strings. The product is a masterful set of modern baroque pop: the subtleties are subtle, the delivery is genuine and the writing is smart.

The record gets down to business with an obvious single, "Airport," which shuffles in with a laptop beat and slyly inserts a crushing lyric ("I am convinced that come the end of this you will be better off with him") into a bouncy chorus. Following that is a horde of solid numbers that don't betray their charms as quickly. "HS Dance," another highlight, offers a tuneful play-by-play of an awkward night at the school social. The plodding verse in "Boy From Oregon" touts odd oboe squelches and vibrato bells over strident acoustic guitar strumming; the song opens with the smile-inducing line "this is where the DJ scratches... scratch, scratch." "Nosedive" strikes paydirt with its portrayal of a relationship in disconnect ("You say 'why cant you imagine something happy?' but I say 'the automatic pilot is laughing'"). The live drums on this number, though minimal, really pop from under the vocal and guitar in the chorus.

Building A Working Model, as the name suggests, is not all hits. The final two tracks, particularly "Chasing 8s," stumble with overly repetitive lyrics. Even so, if this is the working model, Mantissa could do a hell of a lot worse. This record is shaping up to be one of my favorites of 2003.

Review of Mantissa from Stylus Magazine:

What a beautiful, quiet record. Brian McGrath and Nathan Jones have managed to fuse the former’s meandering guitar lines and Greg Macpherson/Crooked Fingers-style vocals over the latter’s electronics. Invited to the delicate experiment are various drummers, string and horn players, etc. At any given moment, the songs collapse from fairly intricate, full orchestration to solely guitar and vocals, building on samples, noises, and beats. There’s a tenderness to Building a Working Model that is rarely found when singer-songwriter meets electronics. Like Readymade, Mantissa succeeds, but conveys a sense of intimacy that the former hasn’t yet grasped.