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Bermuda Search Party finds a new identity with 'Fools On Parade'
For as long as humans have performed, there have been three types of entertainers: the divas, pouting and simmering with sass; the peacocks, adored for their charismatic hubris; and the jesters, bantering with everyone in their orbit.
These days, the first two archetypes tend to take center stage — imagine Sabrina Carpenter coyly flirting via “Espresso,” or Mick Jagger storming Gillette Stadium for the umpteenth time. But it’s jesters like Bermuda Search Party who might just save our collective sanity.
For the last seven years, the Boston band has been a go-to source for uplifting party pop, first under the name The Q-Tip Bandits, and now under their more trademark-friendly moniker. But no matter what the members of Bermuda Search Party call themselves, nothing describes their M.O. quite like the title of their April record “Fools on Parade.” In the context of the new LP, “fools” is a title that the band wears proudly, whether casting funk-spiked sunshine on fans at shows, or using it to brighten murkier moments from their own lives.
“I think one of the greatest tools of approaching difficult things is comedy — is buoyancy, is recognizing the tragic comedy that is a world on fire, sometimes,” says guitarist and co-vocalist Leo Son. “We've talked a lot about music that we can cry to, and music that we can dance to, and whatever the synergy of those energies is.”
Those two moods often organically overlap for the band, especially as they’ve embraced growing pains in recent years. There are the good developments: performances at Boston Calling and Levitate Music and Arts Festival, a flurry of national tours, both headlining and supporting artists like Jukebox the Ghost, and signing with the record label Nettwerk Music Group.
Then came moments that were tougher to swallow. Drummer Dakota Maykrantz chose to amicably depart from the group, and the band’s snowballing popularity incurred a greater chance of being sued over the use of “Q-Tip” in their original name.
“What happens when the buzz reaches the people who will want to be the buzzkill?” Son recalls thinking.
As change and opportunity swirled around the band, they tapped into the twister and approached “Fools On Parade” as a bittersweet turning point. From one angle, it’s a satisfying sendoff for Maykrantz, who made sure to complete his parts on the album before leaving the group. On the other hand, it’s a complete reintroduction to the band as Bermuda Search Party.
The new title was one of roughly 200 options the bandmates brainstormed when they agreed to rebrand as a “preemptive strike” ahead of any potential legal trouble. (A few of the rejected names: Ball Pit Search Party, Idris Elbow.) They announced the switch via social media in early 2024, six years into their relationship as bandmates.
“It's like really grieving an identity, or even a person,” Son explains. “Just because they're not here anymore doesn't mean all the beautiful things we did together are gone, and I think that speaks to some of the songs on this record as well. A lot of this record talks about relationships past, whether it's romantic or platonic or paternal.”
As two elements of the band changed, a new player came into the fold: producer Eric Palmquist, whose résumé includes work with pop singer Tate McRae and alt-rock band Bad Suns, among others. Bermuda Search Party reached out to Palmquist “on a whim,” says bassist and co-vocalist Claire Davis. After hearing demos for their songs “July,” “Asking 4 A Friend” and “End of the Road” (all of which would eventually appear on “Fools On Parade”), Palmquist responded with interest, and the bandmates flew to Los Angeles to work alongside their new producer at a rigorous pace.
“We're couch surfing for three weeks in a row — crashing with friends, and then every single day going into the studio, working on songs for eight to 12 hours, coming home, eating some street tacos, going to bed, and just rinse and repeat for 21 days in a row,” Davis recalls.
Bermuda Search Party recorded eight tracks while out West, including the single “Sed N Dun,” the first-ever duet between Son and Davis. “Like tracksuits made out of velour/ Or Jordans worn in '84/ It′s all been fun, we've run the course,” the bandmates coo over jubilant horns.
The breezy fusion of heartache and new beginnings makes it prime music festival material — and a deceivingly upbeat breakup story. But for Boston’s jesters, the complexity is just another poignant slice of life, no different from everything they’ve already weathered.
“I have grappled with my own mortality a lot as a person,” Son says. “On the slow march to death, I want my march to be a parade. I want it to be festive and have fanfare. It’s like, I'm still going to the same place — I want it to be exciting.”
