Patrick Foster reviewed a February 2007 Midlake performance for The Washington Post:

Midlake set up so much equipment at the Rock & Roll Hotel Wednesday night, it seemed as if there would hardly be room onstage to stand. Once the Denton, Tex., quintet finally squeezed in behind the multiple synthesizers, keyboards and guitars, the band members almost resembled aberrant backwoods scientists, ready to blast the capacity crowd with death rays. But unless you consider 1970s-style soft-rock lethal, the bearded men of Midlake were harmlessly docile. Unfortunately, most of their set wasn't much more compelling than a tune by England Dan and John Ford Coley.

Midlake's breakthrough second album, "The Trials of Van Occupanther," has earned the band critical hosannas and some high profile pals -- actor Jason Lee has become one of its biggest backers. Midlake frames its '70s influences -- Firefall, ELO, Fleetwood Mac -- in a style similar to defunct eccentrics Grandaddy, replete with tight harmony singing. It reproduced those effects in such songs as "Roscoe," "Van Occupanther" and "Head Home" during the hour-long set, but they were essentially copies of the recorded versions. Beyond the pulsating "Young Bride," the night's "Occupanther" tunes were rendered with little forceful emotion.

A new composition (a piano choogler called "Children of the Ground") and two songs from "Bamnan and Slivercork" (the band's more overtly psychedelic first album) were the lukewarm set's highlights. "Balloon Maker" warbled with a Beatles-circa-'67 vibe and "Some of Them Were Superstitious" rang freshly, with lead singer Tim Smith displaying a clear understanding of what was great about Syd Barrett. If Midlake had applied that kind of energy to its best-known songs, its stay at the charming Rock & Roll Hotel would have been far more interesting.

Michael Deeds wrote about Midlake in January 2007 for The Washington Post:

Lots of bands chase bucks. But Midlake takes a slightly different perspective with "Chasing After Deer," a song about precisely what the title says. While a meadow track meet isn't the sort of song subject that typically wins fans, it's best not to over-think Midlake's daydreams. Instead, let yourself drift through one of the most beautifully imaginative albums of last year.

Midlake's second full-length CD gently swells with blissful '70s folk-rock guitars, fragile vocal harmonies and lyrics about late 19th-century life through the eyes of a settler named Van Occupanther. Imagine Fleetwood Mac rocking about wood gathering, food foraging and struggling to land a woman . . . and, yet, somehow, inexplicably, this being totally awesome. On the CD's first song and high point, "Roscoe," frontman Tim Smith celebrates a stone-and-timber home with a roof that doesn't leak: "We have all we need," he sings appreciatively, with the quiet reassurance of Michael Landon in "Little House on the Prairie."

Fans of indie folkie Sufjan Stevens will appreciate this Denton, Tex., quintet for two reasons: While reviving the guitar sound of the AM radio in your uncle's El Camino, Midlake doesn't shy away from orchestral flourishes such as flute and violin. And just as Stevens often did on his 2005 "Illinois," Smith fantasizes about living as a different person during a more romantic time: An era before technology robbed us of our souls. That said, Midlake still sounds pretty terrific on an iPod.

Earl loves Midlake.

Not any old Earl -- we're talking the earl of Earls: "My Name Is Earl's" Jason Lee.

The actor's positively cuckoo for the '70s-leaning, indie-rock band Midlake.

After hearing the Denton, Tex., band's first full-length CD, 2004's "Bamnan and Slivercork" (Bella Union), the film and TV star approached Midlake about shooting a video, which Lee did for the "Balloon Maker" single from the group's second CD, 2006's "The Trials of Van Occupanther" (Bella Union).

Lee also provided this hyperbolic promotional quote for Midlake's last album:

"The Trials of Van Occupanther" is now one of the most important modern records I own. In an age of overly-used irony and disconnected nonchalance, this record actually means something, and Midlake should be forever hailed for their unique and genuine approach to music. Simply put, "Van Occupanther" has backbone, and the fact that you don't feel cheated by it gives one hope that sincerity can still exist within modern alternative music.

While it may seem like the mustache Lee grows for his Earl character creeped up his nose and into brain, disrupting his critical faculties and causing him to issue windy exclamations, there's actually a laundry list of celebs ready to rep for Midlake. Christina Ricci, Minnie Driver, Parker Posey, Giovani Ribisi and Adam Goldberg have all raved about the group, and "That '70s Show's" Danny Masterson even went to guitarist Eric Pulido's wedding.

With all that Hollywood love you'd think Midlake would be popping up on "Grey's Anatomy" and scoring original film soundtracks.

"We've gotten no commercial, no movie, nothing," said singer-songwriter Tim Smith.

Photo courtesy World's FairFormed eight years ago, Midlake has taken a circuitous route to find its small coterie of celebrity worshippers and copious raves in the European press -- all while generating almost no buzz in the United States.

Most of the musicians came together when they were students at the prestigious University of North Texas jazz program and played in a jazz-funk group called The Cornbread All-Stars.

But Midlake's sound, especially on "Van Occupanther," recalls Fleetwood Mac and Jackson Browne run through an indie-rock filter, and Smith has a voice that recalls a heavenly cosmic brew of Radiohead's Thom Yorke, Built to Spill's Doug Martsch and ELO's Jeff Lynne. (There's also a bit of Crosby, Stills and Nash in his croon -- yes, all three of them.)

In fact, there's no trace of jazz in Midlake whatsoever.

"That's good. We tried to get rid of that," Smith said, a brutally honest interviewee. "We just left [jazz] because we found ourselves not listening to it anymore. You would listen to it to learn how to play, but when you were at home you felt almost guilty for putting on The Cranberries rather than John Coltrane -- but you'd much rather put on The Cranberries.

"We found ourselves listening more to Radiohead and Bjork instead of jazz, so that's really why. It's not really a slam on jazz music; we grew up on it for years. And there's still a love for it, I guess," he said, unconvincingly.

Smith said it's just that he has to play and listen to music that reflects his world and reality, nothing else.

"I can't listen to hip-hop; I have no business being in that world, and that's mostly what I see around these days," he said. "I can't identify with that; I don't feel any emotion at all. It doesn't feel like a warm place I want to live in. Jazz, you go back to the 1940s, late '30s, and Charlie Parker and being on 42nd Street -- that whole jazz feeling. It just depends on if you want to feel like that -- and I don't think we wanted to feel like that anymore. So very simple changes, C to G, back and forth, it feels better to me now."

You would think that Midlake's extensive backgrounds in music theory would at least allow the musicians a certain ease when arranging and writing songs, but Smith dismissed the idea.

"I wish I felt like that. For us, it's very, very difficult; it's not an easy process," he said. "We don't just get together and jam and come up with an album. It's a long process of recording and listening back and it's usually just overdubs. It's not the most truly artistic way to go about it. You would hope you could just get into a room and create all together at one time, and come up with your parts by yourselves instead of checking each little thing.

"I probably shouldn't talk bad about us in an interview, but, yeah, I'm not satisfied," Smith said. "I don't look at us like we arrange our songs in the greatest way. I hear so many other bands, mostly bands like Jethro Tull or Yes that I've gotten into recently -- prog-rock stuff -- that just blows my mind; there's no way I could do that. I don't think we're even in the same arena with those kind of guys."

It's not simple self-doubt that causes Smith to question Midlake's achievements thus far; it's a rigorous sense of knowing what he wants and just trying harder the next time to achieve it -- or at least try to achieve it.

A prime example of Smith's realistic approach to music and the biz is the realization he and the band had when Midlake was touring for "Bamnan and Slivercork."

"We toured the first album in the U.K. and Europe, whereas we didn't tour it at all in America. I think we realized that it was going to be a flop, and we needed to get back to recording," Smith said with no regrets.

And even Europe -- where the band now plays festivals -- wasn't always kind to Midlake during the "Bamnan and Slivercork" tour.

"It seemed like it was going quite well in France for a little while. And then we came and played a show in Paris -- and there were seven people who showed up," Smith said. "It was very disheartening. A lot of those early tours were very discouraging. We knew we couldn't support ourselves on that album -- and we knew it -- so we said, 'Why tour for another month or two in America?' Let's just get to work on another album and give it a shot, and that's what we did."

The result, of course, was the album that scrambled Jason Lee's brain.

But Smith's not even satisfied with "The Trials of Van Occupanther."

"Not at all. Even with 'Van Occupanther,' I've never felt like I nailed it," he said.

His realism, or pessimism, doesn't mean Smith has any desire to give up, either -- despite money problems and general indifference by the U.S. market.

"I have a lot to learn and a lot -- my whole thing is making albums, and I want to make the best album I can make," he said. "So I've never said, 'I'm going to do it this time, and if it doesn't work out I'm going to give up.' I would keep going on regardless, and I think the guys in the band believe in the songs I'm writing. They've never said, 'We've been in a band for eight years, this is getting ridiculous, this is it.' It was never like that. We just we'll make this album and if it doesn't do very well we'll make another one."

The band's actually taking a break from working on its third album to do a U.S. tour for one last push behind "Van Occupanther" -- and to support a new iTunes-only EP, "Oak and Julian," as well as a reissue of Midlake's self-released debut EP, 2001's "Milkmaid Grand Army."

But Smith isn't at all happy about the reissue.

"That EP was the first thing we ever did. I never wanted it to come out," he said. "We didn't know who we were. It's just a bad diary to me; opening up something that you did so many years ago that you're really embarrassed by it for the most part. I think there are seven songs on there and I probably like one of the songs. And we will play that one song on this tour. It's just all over the place. Some of it sounds like Rufus Wainwright -- but really watered down, way worse. Some of it sounds like Clinic. It was just thing for around the area, to put out at shows to sell."

Despite Smith's artistic reservations, he was overruled by the group and Basement Front Records repressed the recording.

While Smith might not like the reissued EP, perhaps if a song from it ends up blasting out of Earl's craptacular car, or his brother Randy's beat-up, Cyndi Lauper-loving boom box, at least some soundtrack royalties would flow in -- perhaps along with soundtrack offers.

"I hope so," Smith said. "We could use the money."

--Christopher Porter (Express, September 5, 2007)