Brendan Hines Biography

Brendan Hines born Brendan Patrick Hines is an American actor and singer-songwriter best known for his appearance in television including Lie to Me as well, in Scandal, Suits, Betrayal, Secrets, Scorpion, and Lies. He is currently part of the cast of Amazon Video’s The Tick.

Brendan Hines Age

Brendan was born on 28 December 1976 in Baltimore, Maryland, United States. He is 42 years old as of 2018

Brendan Hines Family

He was born to Mary Hines, a former nun and his father who was a former Jesuit priest who both appealed to dissolve their religious vows so they could marry. He has three siblings

Brendan Hines Wife

He is not married, he has kept his life so private that it is not known whether he is dating or who is dating

Brendan Hines Height

He stands at a height of 1.85 meters

Brendan Hines Lie To Me

Brendan was cast as Eli Loker, an employee of The Lightman Group in the American crime drama television series Lie to Me

Brendan Hines Scorpion

Brendan was cast as Drew Baker, Ralph’s biological father in the season 1 of Scorpion, the American action drama television series

Brendan Hines Macgyver

He was cast in a recurring role as Ethan Raines in the season three of MacGyver, the 2016 TV series

Brendan Hines Net Worth

He has an estimated net worth of around $750 thousand dollars.

Brendan Hines Movies

Brendan Hines Twitter

Brendan Hines Instagram

Brendan Hines ‘would not trust’ artists who don’t want to comment on politics

Brendan Hines Interview

Below, Hines (currently starring in Amazon’s The Tick) discusses the influence of Joshua Tree, time’s impact on recording and getting the songs just right.

Source: bsidesbadlands.com

You’ve described the album as a rock ‘n roll album, but there is plenty of Americana flourishes to be had. Were you aware of how diverse the music ended up?

I suppose it’s Americana, because I’m American, and I definitely write verse/chorus story songs. I’m not technically great as a singer, but in the classic folk tradition that’s not supposed to be the point. For me, it’s a rock album (at least “Side A” is) because there are drums and electric guitar, and I wrote the songs on guitar. Also, the faces that Jonny Flaugher makes when he’s playing bass tell you that it’s rock. I have a problem when it comes to describing my songs, not because they’re particularly unclassifiable but because as someone who has been pretty infatuated with music my whole life, I don’t think in terms of genre. I’m pretty binary about it: good music and bad music. But bad music has its place and good music can be downright unbearable.

Did you have concrete ambitions about what you wanted to do on this album, musically?

I can tell you what I didn’t want: I specifically wanted to avoid having it sound too much like my previous two records, hence the live band. But ultimately I wanted it to feel to people the way it felt to us in the room that weekend. It didn’t feel like a time to get quiet and introspective, but instead to alert others and scream and shout until you find allies.

Do you find any of your musical heroes were reflected on this collection?

I don’t sound particularly like any of them, but a few things that I would be honored to be accused of stealing from certain heroes would be: early [Elvis] Costello’s anger and love of pithy insulting couplets; [Tom] Waits’ unlovely lovely voice; [John] Prine’s heartbreaking simplicity; The Pogues’ storytelling and charm; Fats Waller’s humor and insouciance; and Billy Bragg’s guitar and politics.

“Minus the Facts” is one of the album’s darker, more brooding moments. What is the backstory there?

That was originally a song about temptation and blackmail that I started writing one night in New York before waking up with an unbearable hangover and an embarrassing flood of memories from the night before. It went through a bunch of permutations over a few years and finally, the day we were recording it, I started changing the feminine pronouns to masculine ones, and it suddenly felt as if it was about buyers remorse and applicable to either an object of desire or a scummy presidential candidate. Also, I’m a big Bee Gees fan, and they seem to have major 7 chords in all their songs. I had somehow never used one in a song, so I threw a Cmaj7 in there, and it makes me happy still.

“Math” is likewise such an honest, raw performance. Was there ever any difficulty getting this recording just right? Or any of the songs on the album for that matter?

When I first wrote “Math,” I used to play it in 3/4 time, which works with my default solo Irish drinking song bard sorts of performances. The band got a hold of it, and they made the very intuitive and helpful choice to play it in 4/4, which freed me up to take a little more time, vocally. I actually had to record the vocals to this song a couple of weeks later because my voice was absolutely ragged from the desert, the wine, the campfires and the loud rockers we very intelligently started the weekend off with.

What things did you learn about yourself, the president and music through writing and recording this record?

I learned nothing about the president because there is nothing to learn about the president. He’s the same insecure, malevolent, racist child everyone always knew him to be. We have always known everything we need to know about that person and his cohorts. With regard to myself and music, I was grateful to be reminded that I was incredibly privileged. To be able to escape the aftermath of the election for three days with five close friends who also happen to be great songwriters, musicians, producers, and humans was a real gift, and the only thing better than that is getting the songs into the ears of people who dig them.

How do you think you’ve changed through this album?

Every time I’ve made a record, I’ve learned so much. I try to get better. To some extent, I think I’m making them just as an intensive way to learn and improve. These recordings were defined by a specific time ⎯⎯ a bad one. That time will soon pass, but the songs will hang around.

What role did the environment of Joshua Tree play in the music?

We had no neighbors we could see or hear. The cell service was not good, and we had a really good reason to avoid the day-to-day news cycle. I asked the band and our engineer to refrain from talking about the news, although, of course, that wasn’t completely possible. But we were able to isolate and focus solely on recording for days. Wake up, eat, record all day, open multiple bottles of wine, make a fire, bullshit and go back to recording well into the night. We were there during a supermoon, which was pretty to look at and, according to some people, may have also had some unquantifiable effect on our behavior.

How did time affect the recordings or your approach?

It defined the process completely. We only had three days to get everything we wanted. We had barely rehearsed before arriving in the desert and a bunch of the songs was unfinished, lyrically-speaking. It was hurried, but not frantic. We thought we’d come out of the weekend with four songs but we ended up leaving with nine.

Five years separated your previous album Small Mistakes and this one. What was your personal journey between those two points?

I was lucky enough to be working on various TV shows pretty steadily in that time. But that meant lots of traveling to other cities and spending weeks and months away from home. So, I was writing quite a bit but unable to find time to record anything, which has both benefits and drawbacks. I think I got better at revising and being more selective about what I wanted to say, but a handful of songs probably got lost along the way. If songs don’t find their way into a demo or a live set, they eventually evaporate, and it’s only when I start going through old notebooks and voice memos that I can resurrect them and see if they still have anything worthwhile to say.

What led you back to making music?

I missed playing live for strangers. It’s the same reason I love doing theater, but there are huge gaps of time when I just can’t afford to do it. I never stopped writing or playing out, but I finally had a little chunk of time to record before I began shooting ‘The Tick.’ I love playing live for new people, but I don’t get to do it much outside of Los Angeles or New York, so I hoped that recording some new songs could eventually lead to more touring.

You’ve described the album as a rock ‘n roll album, but there is plenty of Americana flourishes to be had. Were you aware of how diverse the music ended up?

I suppose it’s Americana, because I’m American, and I definitely write verse/chorus story songs. I’m not technically great as a singer, but in the classic folk tradition that’s not supposed to be the point. For me, it’s a rock album (at least “Side A” is) because there are drums and electric guitar, and I wrote the songs on guitar. Also, the faces that Jonny Flaugher makes when he’s playing bass tell you that it’s rock. I have a problem when it comes to describing my songs, not because they’re particularly unclassifiable but because as someone who has been pretty infatuated with music my whole life, I don’t think in terms of genre. I’m pretty binary about it: good music and bad music. But bad music has its place and good music can be downright unbearable.

Did you have concrete ambitions about what you wanted to do on this album, musically?

I can tell you what I didn’t want: I specifically wanted to avoid having it sound too much like my previous two records, hence the live band. But ultimately I wanted it to feel to people the way it felt to us in the room that weekend. It didn’t feel like a time to get quiet and introspective, but instead to alert others and scream and shout until you find allies.

Do you find any of your musical heroes were reflected on this collection?

I don’t sound particularly like any of them, but a few things that I would be honored to be accused of stealing from certain heroes would be: early [Elvis] Costello’s anger and love of pithy insulting couplets; [Tom] Waits’ unlovely lovely voice; [John] Prine’s heartbreaking simplicity; The Pogues’ storytelling and charm; Fats Waller’s humor and insouciance; and Billy Bragg’s guitar and politics.

“Minus the Facts” is one of the album’s darker, more brooding moments. What is the backstory there?

That was originally a song about temptation and blackmail that I started writing one night in New York before waking up with an unbearable hangover and an embarrassing flood of memories from the night before. It went through a bunch of permutations over a few years and finally, the day we were recording it, I started changing the feminine pronouns to masculine ones, and it suddenly felt as if it was about buyers remorse and applicable to either an object of desire or a scummy presidential candidate. Also, I’m a big Bee Gees fan, and they seem to have major 7 chords in all their songs. I had somehow never used one in a song, so I threw a Cmaj7 in there, and it makes me happy still.

“Math” is likewise such an honest, raw performance. Was there ever any difficulty getting this recording just right? Or any of the songs on the album for that matter?

When I first wrote “Math,” I used to play it in 3/4 time, which works with my default solo Irish drinking song bard sorts of performances. The band got a hold of it, and they made the very intuitive and helpful choice to play it in 4/4, which freed me up to take a little more time, vocally. I actually had to record the vocals to this song a couple of weeks later because my voice was absolutely ragged from the desert, the wine, the campfires and the loud rockers we very intelligently started the weekend off with.

What things did you learn about yourself, the president and music through writing and recording this record?

I learned nothing about the president because there is nothing to learn about the president. He’s the same insecure, malevolent, racist child everyone always knew him to be. We have always known everything we need to know about that person and his cohorts. With regard to myself and music, I was grateful to be reminded that I was incredibly privileged. To be able to escape the aftermath of the election for three days with five close friends who also happen to be great songwriters, musicians, producers, and humans was a real gift, and the only thing better than that is getting the songs into the ears of people who dig them.

How do you think you’ve changed through this album?

Every time I’ve made a record, I’ve learned so much. I try to get better. To some extent, I think I’m making them just as an intensive way to learn and improve. These recordings were defined by a specific time ⎯⎯ a bad one. That time will soon pass, but the songs will hang around.