The Oklahoma Tourism Department Hates To See Him Coming

Sure, we’ve all zipped by a busted 7-Eleven or a moldering chain restaurant before it becomes dust in the wind. To you, it’s an eyesore. For Austin Tackett, it’s an album cover. 

When the bassist isn’t touring with his noise-rock band Chat Pile, he’s roaming Oklahoma City in search of his next disasterpiece: a jarring photograph to stamp with the band’s wicked logo, itself resembling a cracked leather sofa that’s seen far too many asses. 

You don’t need to be a fan of sludge metal to appreciate Chat Pile’s visual aesthetic. I’d describe it as Okie Kubrick: an image of blight unique to our state that’s composed with pitch-black humor in mind. For several years now, the band—whose name comes from the mountainous byproduct of lead mining you can see if you take a drive through the abandoned towns of Picher or Cardin—has spoken through its twisted album cover photography. Its gloomy sense of irony is only heightened by the fact that Tackett worked for years in the state’s tourism department—a day job that asked him to be a hype man for Oklahoma. 

Whatever you think about our status as a tourism destination, Chat Pile has caught the world’s eye. Since their formation in 2019 they’ve exported their take on Oklahoma to Australia, Canada, Japan and all over Europe. So, what is it about Chat Pile that resonates so far beyond our borders? 

I sat down recently with Tackett, who goes by “Stin,” to find out more about the band’s visual identity, and what goes into selecting the striking artwork that packages their recordings. 

Nathan Poppe: Chat Pile has released a handful of records and a smattering of singles. By now, you’re no stranger to being interviewed about your music, but has anyone ever talked to you about your photography?

Austin Tackett: No. This will be a first. It’s so crazy because I get complimented on the photos a lot. I’m not saying that to brag. I’m saying it because it’s so weird and uncomfortable to me because I’m not a photographer. I’m the most amateur of amateurs. It has to be stolen valor for me to claim that I’m a photographer in any way. I set it to automatic. I use the lens that came with the camera. I just point and take the picture. If there’s any art happening, then it’s when I process the photo in Adobe Lightroom.

Poppe: I’m a firm believer that the best camera is simply the one in your hands. It’s a tool and half the battle is having the camera ready to go.

Tackett: If I were to brag on myself at all, then it’s for knowing when something should be photographed. It’s style points over technical points. Honestly, that’s a lot like how Chat Pile operates. We’re not a technical band at all. I’ll have interviews with bass guitar magazines, which is funny because I can barely play my instrument. I take what little skill I have and apply it in a very specific way. That’s the story of my life. Doing a lot with a little. … Part of it is just having something to say and how you utilize the resources you have to say it. We live in an age where anyone can go onto YouTube and become a virtuoso on an instrument. If you don’t know what to do with your virtuosity, then what’s the point?

Poppe: At this point in Chat Pile’s trajectory, you’ve toured much of the U.S. as well as Japan, Australia and the United Kingdom. I imagine there are similar scenes of squalor everywhere. Why the continued emphasis here?

Tackett: We possess a very unique type of American despair here in Oklahoma City, and I know this to be real now because of how much I've been traveling. You see problems everywhere—urban decay and blight—but there's something uniquely ironic … that exists here. We channel a very specific energy that you can't get anywhere else. 

Chat Pile’s identity is very Oklahoma. Local bands will incorporate the state into their identity but not in the same way we do. … There’s a misconception about the band that we're nihilists. People always want to describe us that way, and it's just not the case at all. We want things to get better. We see a path for things getting better and know that a better world exists for all of us, but it just seems like it's never happening because everyone just gets in their own way.

Poppe: What are you looking for when you hunt for potential artwork? What catches your eye?

Tackett: Irony is almost too strong of a word because that implies that there's some type of juxtaposition, but there has to be an angle that’s weirdly funny underneath. On God’s Country, to me the irony lies in the fact that this ugly, evil place—the county jail—is in the middle of our downtown instead of a bustling epicenter.

Poppe: What does picking an album cover look like for Chat Pile?

Tackett: Part of the process is me going around and taking a bunch of photos. All three of the guys in our band will tell me the photos suck. So, that's what makes it a huge pain in the ass. This time around, it was the opposite. The first photo I showed them, they're like, "That's the cover.” I love the photo that I took [for Who Loves the Sun]. It was a weird situation. I was driving by 10th and Western, and I noticed smoke billowing near the 7-Eleven¹ over there. The building was still charred and smoking when I took that photo.

Our band tries to pick photos that are emblematic of what we're talking about on the record to a degree. It might not be a direct A-to-B-type scenario. For the new record, the rot that we're living in is emblematic of structure being burned down. There's always a wealth disparity in America, which you see with the Devon Tower being juxtaposed with the tent. 

Poppe: You’ve definitely established a visual identity at this point, and you mentioned people posting parodies of Chat Pile covers. Do you see the band changing its vibes in the future?

Tackett: I like that we have such an identity people go out and kind of like do their own version. That's flattering. I could see us getting away from Oklahoma blight and maybe switching gears. Maybe getting away from photography altogether. But the format with the logo and title—I never ever want to change that. I'm a big metalhead, right? And the second your favorite metal band changes their logo, you’re in for a bad time. It almost never goes well. 

This is a promise to our fans. We're never changing the logo. We're never changing the format. We're not cutting our hair, Metallica-style. It’s not happening. … But it does maybe seem like we’ve taken the “Oklahoma City falling apart” thing to its end.

Poppe: There’s always Tulsa.

Tackett: We’ll see. … Maybe a painting or someone else’s photo.