Post by woolymammoth on Apr 27, 2015 5:09:35 GMT -5
Album-length song-worlds are Phil Elverum’s life’s work and with his latest compelling album ‘Sauna’, Phil continues to try to get at the simple core of the idea - cutting through superfluous symbolism and trying to ‘just say the thing directly’. We talk to Phil about his latest work, playing in non musical venues and having a dislike for banjos…
TSH: Do you feel ‘Sauna’ as an album has a broader and more expansive perspective as a body of work?
Phil: Yes. I tried to find a way to talk about the actual nature of existence without seeming too big and pretentious somehow and I feel good about my writing. I am proud of the ways I found to boil down big ideas into strong nuggets.
TSH: What’s it like to know that you’re able to formulate your work yourself and broaden your vision without compromise?
Phil: I don’t really know any other way. I’ve never really worked collaboratively and so I take it for granted that whatever weird whim I have can be fully indulged, at least in the creative zone. I don’t have to worry about wasting anyone’s time but my own.
TSH: Is it beneficial for you to always compose songs as you’re recording them, so they don’t really exist before they’re recorded?
Phil: Most of my songs are written that way. It’s just the way I came to music, via recording, so I think of songs and structure from the perspective of what can happen in the studio, not from the traditional perspective of bringing a fully formed thing into the studio to squeeze it into some version of documentation. Of course, I have written songs “in the field” plenty too, but those tend to remain just guitar and singing.
TSH: Is any of your subject matter driven and influenced by your nostalgic memories and experiences…
Phil: I hope not. I think nostalgia is a diversion and a problem. I hope that I’m able to look at the past with a clear perspective and not romanticise it too much.
TSH: Let’s talk about the album. Firstly, ‘Pumpkin’ which refers to an account of “a super boring day” and a moment of ‘shocking clarity’… Tell us about this…
Phil: I went on a walk in mid November on a drizzly dim Sunday. I saw a smashed Halloween pumpkin on the shore. I saw some parked bulldozers at a construction site. I walked to the bookstore and bought the newspaper. I went home and watched a football game and read the paper during the ads. Normal day. But I was thinking that each of these “normal” blips throughout the day were actually profound and razor sharp instances of an eternal NOW and that the mind-wandering lack of presence that I was doing during my walk was the same as the state most of us live in our whole lives. If I were able to come into the present moment lucidly and notice whatever was occurring in that moment, the trash on the ground, the pumpkin, whatever, that is the sharp awakening that is the goal of being alive at all. To be aware for as many moments as possible, always trying to snap awake. The pumpkin vivid orange on the rocks was a useful symbol for this snapping. Plus, the last line, “its emptiness loose”, as in the empty space inside the pumpkin released and reintegrated into the big emptiness of the world once it has been smashed… that was a useful symbol too for the feeling of waking up, acknowledging clearly an interweaving of myself with all that surrounds me. So, it’s about a boring normal day but how that’s exactly where deep meaning resides.
TSH: Furthermore, during ‘Youth’ you state ‘There’s no moon’, my young mind thinks, ‘in a totally black night sky’. What does the song signify to you personally?
Phil: This just means that the confidence of youth, which is actually ignorance, plays out just as blinding assumptions, and this idiocy can last a whole lifetime if unchecked. Looking at a sky with no moon in it and assuming that there isn’t a moon just because you can’t see it. It is still out there. Even if the earth’s moon had been blown up, in my song-world there would still be an internal mind-moon, which is all any physical phenomena is in the first place: pictures in our minds, transmitted unreliably by our human senses. This deeper mind-moon is what I am referring to in the last line. The moon is a classic symbol in Zen poems, sometimes used as a shortcut to illustrate those moments of pure clarity. A perfect white circle in a black sky, how could it say anything else to us but “only this”.
TSH: ‘Turmoil’ is short, yet effective and gripping – as you formulated the song, how did you decide how you wanted to use your voice?
Phil: That was actually the last song I recorded for the record. I had the album all sequenced and everything but I felt a bridge was needed to transition the end of ‘Sauna’ to the beginning of ‘Dragon’, so I imagined this little pile of garbagey sounds clattering around for a minute or so. I wanted to pull it down to earth for a second after Sauna’s big build. I wanted the voice to sound different, like a regular guy narrating all of a sudden, so I started by playing a barely tuned guitar and singing in the bathroom of the studio where it sounds distinct. The other shuffling sounds and extra guitars were added to this bathroom performance just to build up the meat on it a little, but not much. But yeah, for the voice, I wanted it to sound close, informal, personable, spoken almost… like a narrator.
TSH: The video for ‘Sauna’ which you and Allyson Foster directed is striking – what was the experience like in bringing the concept of the video together?
Phil: It was supposed to be a comedy - at least the 2nd half. My friend Allyson is the world’s top comedian but she mostly just works at the health food store. She off-handedly joked that she’d be willing to solo-squaredance in a sad garage if I wanted for a video. We just pushed the joke way too far and actually carried it out. I loved it so much. The little explanation blurbs I wrote about the video concepts came afterward. As we were making it we were going on pure instinct. Hat tipping and boot tapping and gum chewing, rotten hay, gnarly clothes, expert rope tricks, it all just felt right.
TSH: What made you focus harder on the details this time? Including being more choosy about sound quality…
Phil: The studio I share with a friend here in Anacortes, The Unknown, has been improving and we have a 24 track now, as well as other nice things, so I was working with better tools than ever. I tackled more ambitious ideas than before and also didn’t have any time pressure to release something because I am also my own label. I just tried really hard to give it breathing room. I think the question is, why not always do this? Why not always try as hard as possible to make the best thing?
TSH: Furthermore, what lead to you making a conscious effort to just say the ‘thing’ rather than indulging in too much poetry or metaphor?
Phil: I try to always do that, but I just think I was a little more successful this time. I’ve tried in the past to be super direct, but it’s so easy to slip into the vocabulary (which makes perfect sense in my own head but I feel can be easily misinterpreted) of “mountains, fog, etc.”.
TSH: When performing live is it a raw/visceral thing for you? And do you want the audience to feel this intimacy and connection with you?
Phil: Sometimes it is raw and visceral, sometimes not. I always try to just be chill and present and to actually think about and mean the words I’m singing. That’s why I usually can’t play older songs, because the feelings have long passed. This sounds annoying, I know, but I still feel like I’m addressing the room, communication style, when I’m singing, and I am uncomfortable playing some other character, singing an old song. Yeah, ideally people will feel comfortable and close within the songs. Not with me, but with the songs.
TSH: What are the benefits of playing in places that aren’t normally music venues?
Phil: There are many benefits. Economic (no alcohol industry complications), social, cultural, etc. The established live music industry is best suited for a different kind of music than what I’m trying to do. It’s more for spectating.
TSH: Is your Grandpa still the funniest person in the world?
Phil: Oh whoops, I guess I just transferred the title to Allyson!
TSH: Can you tell us more about why you’ve been really into thinking about everyday Vikings and ancient Scandinavians…
Phil: The aesthetic just appeals to me. I like that literature. I like thinking about people making a culture that contains poems and intricacy and those beautiful boats out of a pretty rough land and time. I also like thinking about the pre-contact Pacific Northwest Native Americans for the same reasons.
TSH: What do you feel are the most important values that you hope to stay true to as you head forward?
Phil: I hope to stay focused on making the thing that seems necessary, just for my own sanity and enjoyment, and not worry too much about how it ends up being perceived beyond me.
TSH: Finally, can you tell us about some of your recent tweets and what lead to them being put up. Firstly, ‘Ask your doctor about Skrillex…’
Phil: Oh, just a dumb joke about how Skrillex sounds like a pharmaceutical brand name. But also about how that would be a cool conversation to try to start in the doctor’s office, to see if your doctor could explain that nonsense to you.
TSH: Also, ‘I know my stance on banjos is unreasonable but I will not bend.’
Phil: I legitimately hate banjos. I recognise they are important in the history of music and culture and there are probably beautiful ways of playing the banjo, but I fundamentally do not like the sound and probably never will. Plus, there’s this particular style in the post-post-post-punk world these days, maybe dying off slightly now, of crusty dudes with moustaches and feathered hats abusing banjos and yelping in a fake accent, trying to embody some half-baked romance of train hopping and “authenticity”. I barf in my mouth.
TSH: Do you feel ‘Sauna’ as an album has a broader and more expansive perspective as a body of work?
Phil: Yes. I tried to find a way to talk about the actual nature of existence without seeming too big and pretentious somehow and I feel good about my writing. I am proud of the ways I found to boil down big ideas into strong nuggets.
TSH: What’s it like to know that you’re able to formulate your work yourself and broaden your vision without compromise?
Phil: I don’t really know any other way. I’ve never really worked collaboratively and so I take it for granted that whatever weird whim I have can be fully indulged, at least in the creative zone. I don’t have to worry about wasting anyone’s time but my own.
TSH: Is it beneficial for you to always compose songs as you’re recording them, so they don’t really exist before they’re recorded?
Phil: Most of my songs are written that way. It’s just the way I came to music, via recording, so I think of songs and structure from the perspective of what can happen in the studio, not from the traditional perspective of bringing a fully formed thing into the studio to squeeze it into some version of documentation. Of course, I have written songs “in the field” plenty too, but those tend to remain just guitar and singing.
TSH: Is any of your subject matter driven and influenced by your nostalgic memories and experiences…
Phil: I hope not. I think nostalgia is a diversion and a problem. I hope that I’m able to look at the past with a clear perspective and not romanticise it too much.
TSH: Let’s talk about the album. Firstly, ‘Pumpkin’ which refers to an account of “a super boring day” and a moment of ‘shocking clarity’… Tell us about this…
Phil: I went on a walk in mid November on a drizzly dim Sunday. I saw a smashed Halloween pumpkin on the shore. I saw some parked bulldozers at a construction site. I walked to the bookstore and bought the newspaper. I went home and watched a football game and read the paper during the ads. Normal day. But I was thinking that each of these “normal” blips throughout the day were actually profound and razor sharp instances of an eternal NOW and that the mind-wandering lack of presence that I was doing during my walk was the same as the state most of us live in our whole lives. If I were able to come into the present moment lucidly and notice whatever was occurring in that moment, the trash on the ground, the pumpkin, whatever, that is the sharp awakening that is the goal of being alive at all. To be aware for as many moments as possible, always trying to snap awake. The pumpkin vivid orange on the rocks was a useful symbol for this snapping. Plus, the last line, “its emptiness loose”, as in the empty space inside the pumpkin released and reintegrated into the big emptiness of the world once it has been smashed… that was a useful symbol too for the feeling of waking up, acknowledging clearly an interweaving of myself with all that surrounds me. So, it’s about a boring normal day but how that’s exactly where deep meaning resides.
TSH: Furthermore, during ‘Youth’ you state ‘There’s no moon’, my young mind thinks, ‘in a totally black night sky’. What does the song signify to you personally?
Phil: This just means that the confidence of youth, which is actually ignorance, plays out just as blinding assumptions, and this idiocy can last a whole lifetime if unchecked. Looking at a sky with no moon in it and assuming that there isn’t a moon just because you can’t see it. It is still out there. Even if the earth’s moon had been blown up, in my song-world there would still be an internal mind-moon, which is all any physical phenomena is in the first place: pictures in our minds, transmitted unreliably by our human senses. This deeper mind-moon is what I am referring to in the last line. The moon is a classic symbol in Zen poems, sometimes used as a shortcut to illustrate those moments of pure clarity. A perfect white circle in a black sky, how could it say anything else to us but “only this”.
TSH: ‘Turmoil’ is short, yet effective and gripping – as you formulated the song, how did you decide how you wanted to use your voice?
Phil: That was actually the last song I recorded for the record. I had the album all sequenced and everything but I felt a bridge was needed to transition the end of ‘Sauna’ to the beginning of ‘Dragon’, so I imagined this little pile of garbagey sounds clattering around for a minute or so. I wanted to pull it down to earth for a second after Sauna’s big build. I wanted the voice to sound different, like a regular guy narrating all of a sudden, so I started by playing a barely tuned guitar and singing in the bathroom of the studio where it sounds distinct. The other shuffling sounds and extra guitars were added to this bathroom performance just to build up the meat on it a little, but not much. But yeah, for the voice, I wanted it to sound close, informal, personable, spoken almost… like a narrator.
TSH: The video for ‘Sauna’ which you and Allyson Foster directed is striking – what was the experience like in bringing the concept of the video together?
Phil: It was supposed to be a comedy - at least the 2nd half. My friend Allyson is the world’s top comedian but she mostly just works at the health food store. She off-handedly joked that she’d be willing to solo-squaredance in a sad garage if I wanted for a video. We just pushed the joke way too far and actually carried it out. I loved it so much. The little explanation blurbs I wrote about the video concepts came afterward. As we were making it we were going on pure instinct. Hat tipping and boot tapping and gum chewing, rotten hay, gnarly clothes, expert rope tricks, it all just felt right.
TSH: What made you focus harder on the details this time? Including being more choosy about sound quality…
Phil: The studio I share with a friend here in Anacortes, The Unknown, has been improving and we have a 24 track now, as well as other nice things, so I was working with better tools than ever. I tackled more ambitious ideas than before and also didn’t have any time pressure to release something because I am also my own label. I just tried really hard to give it breathing room. I think the question is, why not always do this? Why not always try as hard as possible to make the best thing?
TSH: Furthermore, what lead to you making a conscious effort to just say the ‘thing’ rather than indulging in too much poetry or metaphor?
Phil: I try to always do that, but I just think I was a little more successful this time. I’ve tried in the past to be super direct, but it’s so easy to slip into the vocabulary (which makes perfect sense in my own head but I feel can be easily misinterpreted) of “mountains, fog, etc.”.
TSH: When performing live is it a raw/visceral thing for you? And do you want the audience to feel this intimacy and connection with you?
Phil: Sometimes it is raw and visceral, sometimes not. I always try to just be chill and present and to actually think about and mean the words I’m singing. That’s why I usually can’t play older songs, because the feelings have long passed. This sounds annoying, I know, but I still feel like I’m addressing the room, communication style, when I’m singing, and I am uncomfortable playing some other character, singing an old song. Yeah, ideally people will feel comfortable and close within the songs. Not with me, but with the songs.
TSH: What are the benefits of playing in places that aren’t normally music venues?
Phil: There are many benefits. Economic (no alcohol industry complications), social, cultural, etc. The established live music industry is best suited for a different kind of music than what I’m trying to do. It’s more for spectating.
TSH: Is your Grandpa still the funniest person in the world?
Phil: Oh whoops, I guess I just transferred the title to Allyson!
TSH: Can you tell us more about why you’ve been really into thinking about everyday Vikings and ancient Scandinavians…
Phil: The aesthetic just appeals to me. I like that literature. I like thinking about people making a culture that contains poems and intricacy and those beautiful boats out of a pretty rough land and time. I also like thinking about the pre-contact Pacific Northwest Native Americans for the same reasons.
TSH: What do you feel are the most important values that you hope to stay true to as you head forward?
Phil: I hope to stay focused on making the thing that seems necessary, just for my own sanity and enjoyment, and not worry too much about how it ends up being perceived beyond me.
TSH: Finally, can you tell us about some of your recent tweets and what lead to them being put up. Firstly, ‘Ask your doctor about Skrillex…’
Phil: Oh, just a dumb joke about how Skrillex sounds like a pharmaceutical brand name. But also about how that would be a cool conversation to try to start in the doctor’s office, to see if your doctor could explain that nonsense to you.
TSH: Also, ‘I know my stance on banjos is unreasonable but I will not bend.’
Phil: I legitimately hate banjos. I recognise they are important in the history of music and culture and there are probably beautiful ways of playing the banjo, but I fundamentally do not like the sound and probably never will. Plus, there’s this particular style in the post-post-post-punk world these days, maybe dying off slightly now, of crusty dudes with moustaches and feathered hats abusing banjos and yelping in a fake accent, trying to embody some half-baked romance of train hopping and “authenticity”. I barf in my mouth.