Faun Tempol's one of those experimental groups whose "tinkering[s]" result in accessible melodies and catchy grooves. The Raleigh duo, Thomas Simpson and Carter Gaj, make music that blends intellectual sunshine pop (think Free Design and The United States of America) with grooves derived from US funk, samba, and 90s electronic. Their debut album, La Oprika, is a double LP -- which says something about the group's ambition and self-assurance. The 2xLP sprawls from vocal pop ditty to breakbeat instrumental breakdown, often in the course of a single song. Get to know the band via the interview below and a mix of the music Simpson and Gaj compiled of the works that inspired them during the year-long making of La Oprika.
Describe your band, its members, home, history: We are Thomas Simpson and Carter Gaj, and together we are Faun Tempol. We were born and raised in North Carolina, and we met playing together in bands in Chapel Hill. We now work primarily out of our studio in Raleigh, which we affectionately refer to as the tempol. We release music on vinyl via Funk Night records in Detroit, MI. Our debut album La Oprika was released in October of 2024, and our second album Presides Pourtly will be released later this year.
What are the important shared sensibilities between you and your collaborators?
We are here to make art that validates our instincts as creators, players, and listeners without regard for our art's eventual commodification. We are not here to be salesmen or entertainers. We think this distinction is critical during our work's inception and execution. The streamlining effects of the music industry have a corrosive effect on creativity. To us, the lived experience of art-making is the greatest success we could ever hope for. The desire to be accepted is second nature, but the desire to radically be ourselves has to be cultivated, and we commit to that.
Do you view your music as self-expression? Or is it more abstract? Or both?
The music composes us, which is to say, we determine how to proceed by listening and acting out of regard for what we hear. When the work is done, we’ve expressed feelings and notions we weren’t even conscious of. So in a way, that is a sort of self-expression. But perhaps it would be more accurate to refer to it as self-revelation; one encounters glimpses of the self as the work unfolds.
Does humor have a place in your music?
We do this to laugh. Joy is the point.
Do you care about gear?
Our studio space—the tempol—that’s what gives us the time to pursue our visions. The acquisition and manipulation of equipment opens up the process. We are fortunate to have cobbled together a collection of gear over the years. It didn’t happen overnight. What we create together would not be possible in other circumstances. We know that from experience. We love the gear and the opportunity it affords us to experiment. All that said, the body is the most crucial piece of gear.
Is music a career, a vocation, or a hobby for you?
It can be any of those things, and none of those things. If you love music, you treasure it. We are both here living on this earth because of music. Because of our parents' love of music. You don’t have to put a label on it. How could we ever reduce the impossible brilliance of having ears and being able to perceive the patterns of resonance that vibrate between us into trivialities as small and cruel as "a career, a vocation, or a hobby"?
What does the genesis of a song for you look like, how does it come about? and what is the typical "workflow" for one of your songs from beginning to end?
We start with a jam—drums and guitar, or drums and synth. The drum performance is typically the catalyst that sets the rest of the piece in motion. We just build on that. Listen and fill in what feels like it should be there. Let it breathe. Experiment. Tear it down some. Build it back up again. Along the way, we keep asking each other what it needs, what it’s about, what it can lose, etc. The collaboration between us during each phase of the work’s creation is paramount. Eventually there is nothing left to do, and we begin again.
Are lyrics important to you? How do they relate to the music you make?
Language is important to us, and a proper synergy between words and music is what we strive for whenever the music naturally suggests it. Other times, we enjoy working in the instrumental milieu, if it feels to us that words will restrict the music more than suits our taste. We always intend our songs to be sufficiently impressionistic and participatory for the listener. In some cases, if we lack understanding of what our lyrics mean—but we nonetheless enjoy the experience of singing them and imagining what they could mean—we are satisfied. And we often vocalize wordlessly when that approach feels most appropriate.
What do you think of the contemporary state of music in NC and in general? Moving forward, stuck, or declining?
We are certain that as long as North Carolina fights to establish itself as an inclusive and affirming place—a place where all people can live freely, embodying whatever presentation of themselves they choose—the music will take care of itself. We hope our state can find its way to becoming a place where people of every race, gender, sexual orientation, and faith can be celebrated and nurtured and cherished and loved as part of a community. Music is just part of what happens when people reach out and support each other, feeling their joy and sorrow together in sync. That is an unshakeable human desire; to connect. So for the state of music in North Carolina, we continue to hope.