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Tied for #5: The Apricots
Sounds Like: if powerfully intimate friendship were the loudest, most resonant, and evocative instrument in the band.
How can we measure the way the intimate friendship of musicians affects the soundscapes they create?
“It’s funny,” says Chloé Serkissian—founding member, vocalist, guitarist, and songwriter of The Apricots—“when we write our bio, we have this line that’s like, ‘We’re just some best friends that like to make music.’ Like, that’s kind of dumb as fuck. But also, it’s true.”
“It’s hard to reword it because it really is such a huge piece of this,” adds Molly Evered, keyboardist, vocalist, and commensurate foundational Apricot.
Friendship begets the origin story of The Apricots (née The Pacific Trio—more on that later), and continues as a through line of the band’s story. Evered and Serkissian first formed their rapport as freshman-year roommates at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Wash. They also sang together in a school a cappella group. Their organic evolution into the band they are today seems about as natural and straightforward as band lore gets.
“We were playing on campus and hosting open mics, then in our senior year we were given the opportunity to sing at a winery,” Serkissian says. The pair, who at that time sang with a third vocalist, let that gig be the impetus to crystallize into a fully formed musical group.
“That was the catalyst to pick a band name and make a set,” Evered says. “We were The Pacific Trio at that time.”
“And then 2020 happened,” Serkissian says, “and we wanted to make music that felt a little more true to who we were, what was inspiring us.”
And so, after some questionable anagram work, The Pacific Trio became The Apricots (with an irrational s worming its way into the tasty new name). What was once an acoustic trio eventually became a five-piece group, with each member lending a distinct point of view that influences lead writer Serkissian’s pieces in a distinctly transformative way.
“Serkissian’s been a songwriter and musician and a solo artist,” Evered says. “I think it’s taken us five, maybe six years to find people who also really want to be here. We’re feeling really excited. We started out as an all-girls group, and then we decided that it was OK to let in some men.”
That said, the masculine energy in the band’s current lineup presents some yin and yang—a balance that feels expressly crafted through years of transfiguration. The Apricots may have been initially rooted in the folksy, harmony-driven music their friendship formed around, but the group’s evolution from sweet acoustic harmonies to refined, multidimensional alt-rock does not discard their a cappella youth or the coffeehouse vibes of their past. In fact, those may be the most pronounced layers of The Apricots, with additional vocals by bassist Jeremy Reeves effortlessly blowing soft, rounded harmonies that complement Serkissian and Evered, caressing the ears like an iron hand in a cashmere glove.
“Lead guitarist [and synth player] Jake Mackie is so incredibly talented and good at what he does,” Evered says, “and drummer Logan Hazen trying out some beats just totally brings a new version of Serkissian’s song to life. It really does feel like we are a chain with a bunch of links—the band operates only to the extent that all the links are, you know, functioning together.”
At a certain point in our conversation, Serkissian and Evered’s friendship begins to steer things, and a window into their creative process flies open.
“When I hear one of your songs for the first time,” Evered says to Serkissian, “I feel brought to tears because it’s like this window into your human experience, which is so often a shared experience. You put on an everything’s-OK face to the world, even when you’re feeling like you’re going to implode, and it almost feels like songwriting is the best way you know how to communicate.”
Perhaps this is the metric by which we measure how friendship affects soundscapes—by how many tears are shed when the translation of these flashes of intimacy audibly crystallizes.
