transcription of the rolling stone article featuring car seat headrest that came out a few days ago (since it's paywalled and barely legible on archive.org), continues under the cut for length
Car Seat Headrest come back from the brink
After a serious health scare for Will Toledo, he and his bandmates reconnected with the joy of playing music together
By Simon Vozick-Levinson
March 4th, 2025
Car Seat Headrest: Dalby, Ives, Katz and Toledo (from left) Image credits: CARLOS CRUZ
Will Toledo has taken fans of his band, Car Seat Headrest, on some epic adventures over the years, leading them through concept albums full of lengthy songs and countless thrilling concerts. But he’s never spun a story quite as dramatic as the one he’s revealing this spring.
The Scholars, out May 2 on Matador Records, features at least a dozen distinct characters, in settings that include a mysterious university and a clown school. There are references to a 16th-century Venetian playwright, an old American folk song, and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. At a private performance of the album at New York’s Bitter End club last month, guests were handed a printed libretto explaining all of this, with lyrics cheekily credited to “my great-great-great-great-grandfather, the Archbishop Guillermo Guadalupe del Toledo.”
There's a lot more mythology where that came from, including an enigmatic online game. If you don't have time to race down the rabbit hole, though, here's the most important thing to know about The Scholars: it's the most directly pleasurable Car Seat Headrest album in a while, packed with anthemic choruses and satisfying live-band crunch. Songs like "The Catastrophe (Good Luck With That, Man)" and "Devereux" are bright, catchy, and instantly accessible. The lead single, "Gethsemane", stretches out for nearly 11 minutes of proggy rise and fall.
“It came from jams, mostly,” says Andrew Katz, 34, the band’s wry, energetic drummer. “We hadn’t really played together in a while. Let’s just rip, record it, and see how it sounds.”
A couple of days after the Bitter End performance, Toledo and his bandmates are gathered in the basement of Matador Records’ downtown Manhattan office. Katz sits next to guitarist Ethan Ives, 31, and across from bass player Seth Dalby, 34. In the middle is Toledo, 32, lanky and thoughtful as always, with an N95 mask and long hair hiding much of his face.
Car Seat Headrest began 15 years ago as a solo project for Toledo, who built a devoted fanbase on Bandcamp before moving to Seattle, assembling the musicians who now make up the band, and signing with Matador. Though this lineup has now been together for nearly a decade, they’d never fully brought their live dynamic into the studio before.
“We found that we had a sound as a four-piece that had not really emerged on any of our previous records, because those were more like me coming up with solo demos and then giving that to the band,” Toledo says. This time, he adds, “I was more of an organizer than the composer.”
The Scholars is a hard swerve away from Car Seat Headrest’s last album, Making a Door Less Open, whose glossy pop surfaces and occasional satirical edge were the result of a long, fraught recording process. Almost as soon as they’d released that album into a pandemic-stunned world in May 2020, Toledo says, he started thinking about doing things differently next time. He recalls listening to Mozart’s Magic Flute and forming the beginnings of an idea for an album structured like an opera, with songs in the voices of multiple characters — an “exercise in empathy,” he says.
Before he could develop that idea any further, though, he was sidelined for months with an unexpected medical crisis that put the band’s future in question.
Car Seat Headrest previewed their new album, The Scholars, with a private show at the Bitter End in New York. Image credits: GRIFFIN LOTZ FOR ROLLING STONE
IT STARTED IN the spring of 2022, when Car Seat Headrest mounted their first tour since before the pandemic. “When we came back, we found we had a lot of younger fans,” Toledo says. “Fans who had never seen Car Seat before. A lot of them, I think, hadn’t seen rock shows before at all.”
Those audiences made for some memorable nights, as documented on the live album Faces from the Masquerade. At one March 2022 show in Brooklyn, Toledo wore a fursuit onstage for the first time, drawing rapturous cheers from the furries in the crowd. “That was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing that went with the energy that we were riding at the time,” he says. “And the audience loved it… The best shows were, I think, the best shows that we’d played up to that point.”
“We were like, ‘Finally, we’ve hit the peak. We’re having fun now,'” Katz says.
“And then just a couple shows after that, I got Covid,” Toledo adds.
They canceled their next few shows, and the rest of the band flew home to Seattle. Toledo spent a few days isolated in a Washington, D.C.-area hotel room, resting up and “scrolling through Twitter, looking at all the very nice responses” to the fursuit he’d debuted in Brooklyn. After a week or so, feeling recovered, he flew back west to join the rest of the band.
Once he was home, it became clear that Toledo was still dealing with a serious health issue. “I started feeling worse and worse again, and I didn’t know why,” he says. “I would wake up in the morning, feel OK, and then as soon as I started eating, it seemed like my tongue was burning.”
Toledo got through the next few months with difficulty, canceling some shows and doing his best to tough it out at others. “We played Seattle, and that was by far the worst I’ve ever felt during a show,” he says. “I’m still not sure how I got through it.” Many of his problems were digestive in nature, leading to a mistaken diagnosis of stomach flu. But no matter how many times his symptoms seemed to improve, they always came back.
Finally, in October 2022, he made the decision to scratch all of Car Seat Headrest’s upcoming dates. Toledo broke the news to fans with a grim message posted on social media: “After another month of struggling to regain my health, I am currently forced to face the fact that my body lacks the basic levels of functionality necessary to leave the house most days, let alone embark on a tour.”
During that long period of uncertainty about his health, Toledo’s bandmates let him know they were OK with Car Seat Headrest ending if that’s what it took for him to get better. “I think we had a phone call,” Katz says. “I was like, ‘Dude, if you got to quit, just quit. It’s not the end of the world. We are all capable people. We’ll figure something else out.’”
“Hey, maybe another album’s not in the cards,” Dalby recalls thinking.
Eventually, Toledo was diagnosed with histamine intolerance, a chronic condition that he was able to manage by going on an extremely limited diet. “I remember I did a grocery run,” Katz says, turning to Toledo. “All you could eat was what, carrots and one other thing? It was really scary.”
By the spring of 2023, with Toledo’s health under control at last, they were ready to start work on their next album. The mood was open and collaborative, from those liberating full-band jams to the newly prominent songwriting contributions made by Ives.
“One of the first things we did was just me and him sitting down on one of our friends’ lawns with acoustic guitars and going back and forth,” Toledo says. “Just listening and seeing, ‘Where can it go from here?’ It felt good to step back from the role of having to provide the material.”
The guitarist — a big-time Neil Young fan who’s wearing a Steve Albini T-shirt when we meet — ended up taking a turn on lead vocals at several key points on the album, including on a majestic power ballad he co-wrote called “Reality.” (In the libretto, he’s credited as “Artemis.”) “I had wanted to contribute more writing to the band, and I had already been sort of vocal about that,” Ives says. “It ended up being fortuitous.”
“I thought of our practice space as a workshop,” Toledo adds. “And days when we were working on Ethan’s songs were easier for me.” He liked how it all fit into the storyline he was sketching out, comparing it to the way dancers come on and off the stage in Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker: “I really feel like my strong point is less coming up with the original content and more prodding something that’s already there into a direction that I see it going.”
Ives (left) with Toledo at the Bitter End show. Image credits: GRIFFIN LOTZ FOR ROLLING STONE
TODAY, TOLEDO SAYS, his medical ordeal is in the past, for the most part. “I feel better now than I ever have in my life, in terms of the vigor and energy of my body,” he says. “That still varies from day to day, and there is still fragility there. Sometimes I still do have a day where, for no discernable reason, I have a downturn.”
He’s been able to limit his symptoms most effectively by sticking to a strict diet: “In case any readers out there think they might have this, try a diet of oats, pumpkin seeds, rice, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and, if you eat meat, chicken and turkey.” He also feels he’s benefited in other ways from the clarity that can accompany a health scare.
“Being very sick puts you in touch with what’s real in life and what isn’t,” he says. “As I started getting better, I tried to keep having that time for stillness in my life, and I started meditating more. And I’ve kept that up as a daily practice.”
At both the Bitter End performance and our interview, he’s wearing a tight-fitting N95 mask, which he tells me he does both to protect himself and out of consideration for a close friend who has been battling post-Covid symptoms for five years. “I wear it pretty much whenever I go out in public now,” he says. “It’s more worth it to me to stick on a mask when I’m in public and then have people in safe spaces that I can unmask around.”
He’ll be wearing the same mask when Car Seat Headrest return to U.S. stages this year for a series of carefully limited engagements. “We’re not going to tour in the sense of getting on the road and doing a different city every night,” he says. “Every couple weeks, we’re going to fly out and do a show. And that was a very practical decision based on estimates about my health.”
He and his bandmates are currently working out a new setlist that will have room for some of the more sprawling songs on The Scholars — the longest of which, “Planet Desperation,” rages on for almost 19 minutes on the record — along with at least a few older fan favorites.
“I love how simple they are and how big a reaction we can get,” Katz says of the more concise songs from albums like 2016’s Teens of Denial and 2018’s Twin Fantasy (Face to Face). “I love it. But obviously, you have to fucking move on at some point. You can’t just keep playing ‘Drunk Drivers’ for 25 years.”
Toledo agrees. “I get so excited playing these new songs that I would rather spend less time on the old songs,” he says, and though I can’t see his expression, I get the sense he is smiling slightly. “If they hate the record, we’ll go back to Twin Fantasy. But we’re hoping that they like it.”
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tagging @cosmicanchorite and @thoseareyougotsomeniceshoulders since you said you were interested on my other post!
