Of Mice & Men: “Your home can really be anywhere. It’s about the people you surround yourself with”

Time travel is impossible, but that doesn’t stop Of Mice & Men trying. Rather than a DeLorean, though, they’ve rented a minivan to retrace their past lives around Orange County, California, where they spent their formative years. It’s been about a decade since the band – these days comprised of vocalist Aaron Pauley, rhythm guitarist Alan Ashby, lead guitarist Phil Manansala and drummer Tino Arteaga, who is today’s designated driver – were last here together, when they were making fourth album, Cold World. But as they find out, perhaps not unsurprisingly, while grabbing lunch in Anaheim, not even history stays the same.

A small restaurant/drive-through that’s open 24 hours, Albertoz Mexican Food is, for all intents and purposes, the place that kept the members of Of Mice & Men alive when they first started out. But it’s also not. For a start, like everything, it was much cheaper then – a necessity for a new band on a tight budget – and called Alberto’s Tacos. It also had a different logo, something Alan is particularly upset about. Very clearly the joker of OM&M, he fakes a mini tantrum in the van about the name and logo change.

“We can’t take a photo with this logo,” he strops, his tongue firmly in his cheek, before the band do so anyway. “But this is the physical location where we’d come and eat.”

They chow down again today, heartily recommending Kerrang! get a California burrito. Much to their delight, it’s just as good as when they used to eat here in the band’s infancy.

They spent so many hours gorging on Mexican food here because it’s a short drive from Third Encore Rehearsal Studios, the place where Of Mice & Men would practice when they first got together. A sprawling complex of soundproof rooms, it’s also where they wrote their first four albums – 2010’s self-titled debut, which was released a year after they formed; 2011’s The Flood; 2014’s Restoring Force; and then 2016’s Cold World. Although they still keep a lot of gear at a nearby storage shed – which they point out on the understandable condition its location remains undisclosed – they’ve all since moved, some further than others.

A decade away has done nothing to diminish the band’s love and admiration for their home city, though, nor the love and admiration of those who knew them back in the day. That’s immediately clear when one of Third Encore’s owners, Chad Wanke, turns up to let them into the place they used to spend the vast majority of their first seven years. They embrace full-heartedly (and fist bump) upon meeting after all this time, a hug that feels almost as warm as the unobstructed California sun beating down on the car park. Indeed, Al, aware of his fragile complexion as a redhead, was forced to duck down in front of the van to try and avoid the heat while waiting for Chad to arrive.

“You’ve got to wait out here and cook,” chuckles Tino, who holds the keys, to his vulnerable friend. The relief on Al’s face is palpable when, a few minutes later, Chad arrives and, after those hugs and fist bumps, unlocks the door to the complex and lets everybody in.

In their time at the studios, Of Mice & Men used many different rooms. Today, they’re back in the very first rehearsal space they had, and the memories come flooding back – even if the bare walls and empty floor bear little resemblance to what it was like when they were actually using it.

“I smoked a lot of weed outside,” chuckles Phil.

“Because you can’t smoke inside,” chimes in Chad, “but you can smoke whatever you want outside.”

“And I never broke that rule,” continues Phil.

“It’s such a nice, well-kept place. A lot of these places in Southern California are shitty. They’re not like this. It’s well-kept, everything’s clean, the hallways and the bathrooms are nice. That’s not common,” adds Tino. “So we wanted to always respect it, especially as Chad would always help us out when we needed it.”

Chad goes on to explain how there used to be pregnancy tests in the hallway vending machines. He put them in there as a joke, but they kept selling out.

“I went over to the Dollar Tree with our assistant manager and we buy 10 pregnancy tests, four lighters and a bag of M&M’s,” he recalls. “The lady that’s checking us out is like, ‘I don’t want to know what this is about…’”

Everybody laughs.

“Places like this are absolutely instrumental in building a scene,” adds Tino. “More so than people realise. A lot of times musicians think it’s just a jam spot, but really, all of it starts in rooms like these – you make some friends and then you’re at their show and then they’re at your show, and then you’re playing together.”

Eventually, when they started touring too much, OM&M had to give up the spot. But even though the walls of the studio are empty, it’s clear how pivotal this place was. At one point, Tino says, they had gear “packed to the ceiling”, and the band members start sharing old photos on their phones where their hoard is visible. Even without it, though, you can feel their former lives taking shape within these walls again, all four of them reliving moments in their heads. The past might not stay the same, but it doesn’t go away, either…

An 11-minute walk around the corner from the rehearsal studios is Chain Reaction. It’s a legendary venue in alternative music, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the outside. Located in a nondescript strip mall that’s flanked by palm trees at the front, it’s next door to a store called Bargain Depot, that may or may not be closed down, which in turn is next to a thrift store, outside of which sits a giant, down-on-its-luck teddy bear that looks like it’s been there for years. But open the doors to the 250ish-capacity venue – especially in the middle of the day when the sky is bright blue and the sun is beating down – and you enter into a whole other dimly-lit underworld. T-shirts of bands who have played here over the years adorn the walls and ceiling: AFI, My Chemical Romance, Pierce The Veil, Alkaline Trio, Taking Back Sunday, Neck Deep, Thursday… It’s a truly impressive who’s-who of alternative music.

Growing up in the area, Of Mice & Men went to Chain Reaction many times as fans, before they eventually playing there themselves. They’ve gone on to do so numerous times over the years, first headlining it when The Flood came out, and last performing here about a decade ago. Precisely when is a little bit of a mystery, however. Tino says that the last time they stepped on that stage was in April 2015, but also that they’d rented out the venue to play a free show for fans “right around the release of Cold World”. But that album didn’t come out until September 2016, and, according to setlist.fm, none of the songs on the record were played that night. Was there another show? Who knows. Memory, unsurprisingly, is unreliable, but so is the internet.

Regardless of when the last time Of Mice & Men were at Chain Reaction, its importance to their foundational years can’t be understated. They had, for a long time, one of their T-shirts pinned to the wall, but a thorough search for it by the four-piece ends without finding it – presumably because it got replaced at some point in the last decade. But as they walk through what they call the “hype hallway” that leads from the green room to the stage, they still remember the feeling they got doing so before.

“The thing about being a SoCal band,” says Alan as he makes his way to the four steps that lead from the hallway to the side of the stage, “is if you play Chain Reaction, you’re going to have a lot of family and friends out. So there’ll be like 100 people packed in this hallway trying to watch side stage, so before you go onstage you can barely get by. It’s like when you’re watching a movie and there’s a club scene and everyone’s smoking joints and drinking and you’re walking through and seeing friends and it’s like ‘Heyyyyyy…’” The word trails off into silence. He walks up the stairs and onto the stage.

Seeing the band’s faces as they sit on the stage and pose for photos with the venue’s sign illuminated behind them, it’s clear, just like the rehearsal studios, how much this place means to them. But at the same time, it highlights how much is different. The last time they played here – whenever exactly that was – Austin Carlile was still the singer, and very much the focal point of the band. Now, with the recent release of ninth album, Another Miracle, Of Mice & Men have made more records with Aaron as the lead vocalist than with their former frontman. What’s more, they’re going from strength to strength, as humans and a band. Though Austin’s departure was a big jolt to the system, the band overcame that obstacle the only way they knew how: by putting their heads down and forging on.

“We got through it just by making music,” says Aaron. “I don’t want to minimise it, but it wasn’t as difficult as I think other people would think it was. Because for us, it was always the four of us that would get together in the rehearsal spot and jam and do all that stuff anyway. So when it was like, ‘Alright, what’s the next step?’ We were like, ‘I don’t know – let’s get back in the room and make noise.’ And that was literally one of the first things we did. We went to our rehearsal space in Anaheim without necessarily a goal in mind, and just got in the room and made some noise.”

A decade on, they’re still doing that – and the sense of camaraderie and genuine friendship between them is remarkable and infectious. Over the course of the day, there is, as you’d expect from a band who have been together since 2009 and who have known each other significantly longer, plenty of banter. As Tino drives from one place to another, Aaron sits up front next to him, while Alan and Phil recline in the back like naughty school kids. They constantly reminisce and joke about the past, especially when the van drives by the apartments in Huntington Beach that they all lived in together for about three years. At one point, Tino says something about hanging with “his alts” – meaning alternative people – which becomes an ongoing and recurring joke that he means alt-right. Phil says he should go down to Huntington Beach Pier and wave his MAGA flag around. He doesn’t have one to wave, but the band do head down to the beach anyway. There are also at least three occasions when Al thumps the roof of the van to make Tino think he’s hit or backed into something. Each time, there’s a split second where you can practically see Tino’s heart skip, sink and pause – and then restart with relief when he realises it was, once again, just his buddy.

But there are plenty of tender moments, too. Al, whose girlfriend is pregnant, keeps asking Aaron questions about his kid and being a dad, and all of them dote over photos of Aaron’s baby. It’s clear that, even though they don’t live in this area anymore – Aaron and Al have moved to Northern California, while Phil and Tino aren’t quite as far, but still further than they used to be – their bonds are as tight as ever.

“We’re each other’s support systems,” says Tino, “so we’ve been able to weather a lot of storms with the help of each other, and, honestly, with the help of music. The reason why I feel like we’ve been so prolific and why we’ve done nine records is because we love making records.”

Their focus now is on Another Miracle. It’s a title that, obviously, suggests something spiritual, but it’s really just the band’s way of looking at the obstacles they’ve had to overcome.

“I think we’ve all experienced little miracles here and there through our lives,” explains Tino, “so what’s one more? What’s another adversity that we can overcome that somebody might think is a miracle but someone else might think it’s not? It’s just advancing in the face of adversity when it feels like you can’t go on.”

To be talking about advancing while on a very deliberate road trip into the past is quite ironic. It’s also part of the journey – they wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for the past. That’s something represented perfectly by Phil’s collection of tour passes, tickets, laminates, guitar picks, wristbands and other paraphernalia. When COVID first hit, he spent the downtime gathering and sorting out all of his laminates and attaching them to a keychain in chronological order. It’s a wonderful physical representation of the many miles travelled and years spent together, and each one brings out a vivid memory for him. Though it’s hard for him to pick a favourite, one does stand out: when Of Mice & Men supported Linkin Park in the UK and Europe in the winter of 2014.

“That was probably the biggest tour ever that we’ve done,” remembers Phil. “It was in the winter of 2014. The first night was in Zurich, and we’d sold out Zurich the last time we were there. It was to about 250 people, and we were like, ‘Hell yeah! We sold out a show in Zurich!’ And then when we ended up playing there with Linkin Park it was to 24,000 people sold out. We were like, ‘Whoa! This is a big difference!’”

“And then,” chimes in Tino, “Chester [Bennington] broke his leg playing basketball against Phil, and the rest of the tour had to be cancelled…”

“But I beat him!” quips Phil. An odd, not-quite-quiet moment follows where the hilarity of Phil’s triumphant declaration and the pathos of Chester’s absence meet.

The day ends, as many experiences with rock bands do, in a bar. More specifically, in Johnny’s Saloon in Huntington Beach, a wonderfully divey rock’n’roll joint where Of Mice & Men would go all the time when they lived here. There are beers and shots and a game of pool, because they actually engage in those activities, it perhaps brings back the past better than anything or anywhere else during the day, where it was more like they were looking through a window into the past. Because with the whiskey being served and the door closed, it could be easy, even if just for a minute, to imagine that now is then – or perhaps that then is now.

“It all goes so fast,” admits Aaron. “So it was awesome for us to relive this. Because that whole season of life came and went pretty quick. A lot of great stuff happened, and a lot of horrible stuff happened, and just a whole lot of life. And the older you get, the faster it seems to go.”

“It was nice to drive through it,” agrees Tino, “and maybe to a certain extent feel those feelings, but as grown-ups now, when we were kids then. But it feels like a whole other lifetime, you know? These streets, at one point we called them home, but home can change. Your home can really be anywhere. It’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

All these years on, outside this dark bar of the past, the bright sunlight of the present – and the future – is lying in wait. But it seems clear that wherever or whenever they are, as long as they’re together, they’re home.

This interview was originally printed in the limited-edition Kerrang! x OM&M zine.

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