Nancy Whitaker

In the ever growing annals of indie rock, where the echoes of bygone eras mingle with contemporary sounds, Nancy Whitaker stands as a great example to the genre’s enduring versatility. This four-piece ensemble, composed of Kevin McDaniel (vocals, guitar), Ben Carolan (bass), Evan Roque (keyes), and James Carolan (drums), weaves a sonic narrative that pays homage to the psychedelic rock of the 60s and the raw energy of the 2000s garage era.

Their newest release, a track from a much-anticipated album slated for spring 2024, marks a significant milestone for the band. It’s the first song collaboratively penned by the entire group, a symbolic gesture underlining their unified artistic vision.



Kevin McDaniel, the group’s lyricist and frontman, reveals a desire to encapsulate the group’s live performance energy in this recording. This approach, combined with their in-house production, from recording to mixing, allows for an authenticity that resonates with the listener.

Mastered by Franky Gonzalez, a friend and collaborator, the track stands as a testament to the synergy between Nancy Whitaker and their extended creative family. McDaniel praises Gonzalez’s work, encouraging listeners to delve into his portfolio, a subtle nod to the interconnectedness of the music industry.

The lyrical journey of this song, according to McDaniel, is deliberately enigmatic, mirroring a Rorschach test’s ambiguity. He prefers to keep the lyrics’ meaning a guarded secret, allowing listeners to forge their own emotional connections and interpretations.

Nancy Whitaker

Visually, McDaniel draws inspiration from Woody Guthrie’s “Dust Bowl Ballads,” aspiring to infuse the song with a folk aura reminiscent of the 1940s. He likens the introduction to the approach of a tornado, a powerful and unpredictable force in music.

The track itself begins innocuously, with a dynamic indie rock motif, before revealing its unconventional, clawed facets. It teases with an explosion of sound, then retreats into a more regular indie rock rhythm. This maneuvering towards progressive, experimental variations infused with jazz elements, evokes a trance-like state akin to Radiohead’s “Where I End and You Begin,” yet in a distinctly different style.


Nancy Whitaker’s latest endeavor is not just a promise of an intriguing album; it’s a brilliant example of how mainstream rock radio stations are missing out on exceptional music that thrives in the underground.

Nancy Whitaker by @scottdofilm
Nancy Whitaker by @scottdofilm
Their ability to navigate and blend diverse musical influences while maintaining an original and progressive sound is a refreshing reminder of indie rock’s potential to continually evolve and surprise. -

THE NEW SINGLE FROM THE BAND IS A PRODUCT OF FIGHTING HABIT AND ATTEMPTING TIME TRAVEL

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With any work—even the artistic kind—it’s easy to fall into a pattern. To discover a way of doing things that feels natural and right and to continue to ride that wave. And while there is, of course, nothing wrong with following instinct, perhaps even developing a signature style, there’s something to be said about instead opting to paddle against one’s own creative current—making the decision to depart from routine, take a personal path less traveled and make, in the case of music, a sort-of sonic shift.

“Don’t You Know We’re See Through,” the newest song by Brooklyn band Nancy Whitaker (out TODAY), is the product of a band doing just that: the group recognizing a certain tendency then finding direction in their desire to shake things up.

“We wrote this song a bit ago in response to a habit we had formed of making music with a lot of dynamic shifts,” said singer and multi-instrumentalist Kevin McDaniel, the songwriter around whom the project was initially conceived. ‘We wanted to make something that felt like it slowly inclined into intensity rather than jumping in and out of it.”

Beyond operating with a new approach, the band—comprised of Kevin, Evan Roque, Ben Carolan, James Carolan—also found inspiration in another era: The, shall we call it, Meet Me in the Bathroom period, which continues to offer endless allure and artistic fuel (plus, perhaps, a touch of envy… a shot of retroactive fomo) for any indie band, or writer. From Brooklyn and beyond.

“At the time I was listening to a lot of the Walkmen and all those 2000s NYC bands, and I think we were all curious about trying to write a song that wouldn’t sound out of place in that context,” Kevin said, going on to describe the group’s process.

“We tracked James on kit and Ben on bass together and then Evan and I spent a different day recording guitars, synths, soundscapes and percussion on top of it all to fill it out as much as possible.”



And it is full. The result of the band’s motivation and method is a song that sweeps you up and carries you along, one that you don’t just bounce along with but dive into… a piece you can practically swim through. Momentum-building from the very beginning, punctuated with surprising, sometimes startling, and occasionally almost-outerwordly elements.

As a writer and a reader, I’ve oft made it clear I’m a sucker for lyrics. Of course, they have to be delivered via notes and a melody that move me — physically, mentally or emotionally…. in a perfect world (I’m greedy), all of the above. After all, without the sonic sea on which they float (or, in some cases, are submerged), words would just be poetry. And that’s a whole different thing.

As I prepared to premiere this track and received input from Kevin over email, I was shocked to learn that he had initially been unsure about and unsatisfied with the song’s lyrics.

“Lyrically I just know I was feeling incredibly irritated when I wrote the words/recorded vocals,” he recalled, “and no combination of words sounded right to me.”

Because while I was initially swept away by the sound, it’s the lyrics that took me home—the metaphors, sweet sets of phrases and wordplay that took my listening experience to the next level, hooking me even harder:

“I’m playing catch with a shadow but I can’t figure out if it’s mine”

“And the noise drags on but the silence slips right through my hand”

“Then we could shake heads or hands and float in space where we don’t need to land”

“And the glass where we hide’s got a time where it turns into sand”

… just to name a few.

However, in a pleasant twist, it seems like Kevin’s frustration in this department might have been a good thing for the song itself, emotion adding an element to the recording that wouldn’t have existed otherwise—and that he actually ended up being pleased with.

“I actually enjoy that aspect now though because I think that the irritation while writing/recording led to certain vocal inflections that I really enjoy.”

There’s a life lesson there somewhere. -