Colin Stetson

My feature with Colin Stetson is in this week's WE.

Colin Stetson

Credit: supplied

Sax man toes the line between indie and avant-garde

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Those who think they’re too cool for school and — by extension — ­too cool for the saxophone can move along. Colin Stetson is having none of it. The Montreal-by-way-of-New-York transplant has wielded his bass sax for over a decade, playing with a variety of high-profile acts including Arcade Fire, TV on the Radio and currently, Bon Iver. Finally, in 2008, Stetson made his debut solo album, New History Warfare Vol.1, the first in a planned trilogy of experimental jazz records that show off his talent for musical contortionism, using creativity, his body and the studio to manipulate and reinvent the scope of his instrument. His recent follow-up, New History Warfare Vol. 2: Judges was just nominated for the 2011 Polaris Prize longlist, and he’s now in the middle of his Vancouver International Jazz Fest residency, conducting workshops and playing a variety of gigs throughout the 10-day festival. Stetson spoke with WE from his home in Montreal about his solo career, his high-profile side projects and the sax’s reputation as the pop culture joke that just won’t quit.

WE: What does the Polaris nod mean to you?
Colin Stetson: It’s a really amazing welcome to Canada for me. I’ve been really enjoying living here and being a part of this scene, especially the music community in Montreal. And to be acknowledged as a part of that community, along with so many of my friends, just feels really special. But then also, just the response to this record has been overwhelmingly good and I’ve been really happy with that.

The record is amazing: so complex and it’s not straightforward, I’m just kind of delighted people get it.
Yeah, that is my main delight as well. (Laughs) I don’t see it as being so difficult or out there. When I hear it, I hear it as being very straightforward songs. Of course, the songs that are creating them are not mainstream or conventional. But, to me, it kind of plays out very cinematically and more or less as a story. But, I’ve grown accustomed to always having everyone else’s ears hear it in a different way. With this record I think I was finally able to get that point across more clearly, so others could actually see what I was seeing, which is what I’ve been after. I’m just getting better at it, I guess. (Laughs)
Cinematic is a good descriptor, since I felt like I was watching a movie.
That’s fantastic. That makes me so happy, right in my heart, ’cause that’s really where — the hugest part of the foundation for this music is in visuals for me. I think very cinematically when I go about writing individual pieces, while constructing them into the over-all arc of the record and in seeing this as a trilogy of records, too. As an ongoing, unfolding narrative, so it pleases me to hear when people are also on board with me with that one.

You didn’t put out your first album until 2008. Were you enjoying a long education process, or did you not feel ready until then?
It was never a focus of mine. I was doing maybe one solo show a year, if that, over the course of 10-15 years. They were always more rooted in the tradition of avant-garde improviser, free jazz route. I was dealing with some thematic material, some of the stuff that ended up on Volume One but it was much more amorphous... I didn’t start to get inspired to straighten it up and put it on record until Volume One. I’d started to do a few more solo concerts and compose more and I’m not sure what the impetus for that was, but — actually, no, I do. I was in New York City, it was really hard to get things done and pay rent, and I remember having a conversation with my best friend Stuart Bogie, who’s an amazing musician. At that point, we were just doing the hustle, playing with everything and I remember him saying, “What are you doing?” and I listed off all the projects I was a part of, and he said, “Well, what do you want to have time to do?” And I said I wanted to be able to do something of my own, and the band I was leading wasn’t able to rehearse as much as I wanted, so it was getting more and more difficult to have that be what I wanted and he said, “Well, quit everything except one band of somebody elses and do your own thing and see how you feel.” So, I did and then I made Volume One and I felt great.

Justin Vernon, aka Bon Iver, let me know that when I see you in Vancouver, you’ll melt my face off.
(Laughs) Yeah, I’ve reportedly melted Justin’s face off several times.

Now you’re going on tour with Bon Iver, right?
Yeah, I just got done with a week-and-a-half’s worth of rehearsals. I just got home from that.

You can straddle the line between being the indie rock guy and the avant-garde guy.
Yeah, I’m really fortunate right now that I can play my own music and have it be something more than just a side note, or something I do for my own shits and giggles. To the point where it’s sometimes hard for me to imagine committing so much time and effort to another group because of how much I have going on solo-wise right now. Which is just fantastic to have that be a problem. I haven’t had to work another job since I was 30 years old. I haven’t had to take any music gig I didn’t want for the last five years. Now, my only problem is that I have to say no to someone like Laurie [Anderson] which is fuckin’ horrible! (Laughs) Like, “No, I wanna do it so bad but I actually committed to this band Bon Iver...”

Everyone’s talking about the sax’s comeback. Its reputation took a beating, but you rode that out.
It’s just fashion. It’s just what people like to say to each other to feel like they’re all in the same club. Why does everybody hate the sound of the saxophone? Because the ’80s went out with a bad taste when the ’90s came in, and in the ’90s, Kenny G made the saxophone do something that everybody thought was super cheeseball. Those are the reasons. But now, every other aspect of the ’80s have been back in for years and there’s some sort of weird stigma on the saxophone because of what, Kenny G? It’s kind of horseshit. I don’t really buy it and whenever anybody says something like that, I just think either we don’t agree about music or they’re just not telling me the truth. They’re just saying something because they think they should be saying it to be cool. What are the memorable solos? Saxophone solos from the ’80s and all throughout rock music, since back in the ’40s, it’s been the stuff of popular music and rock music. For me it’s never really gone away, but with the indie rock explosion in the past decade, everybody’s been going very far into the orchestral realm. It’s been cool to use things like french horns and oboes and it’s cool to do all that shit because there’s something untouched and something that remains kind of pristine about orchestral instruments, but there’s something tainted about saxophone. Maybe because it already had its super heyday in popular music and maybe the chamber music side of things never had it. Now we’ve seen that take its course in Arcade Fire and even more out than that with the Dirty Projecters music becoming more mainstream. I think people’s ears are opening back up and saying, let’s just listen to what it sounds like and judge it based on that. At least I hope.

Colin Stetson plays several shows throughout the Vancouver International Jazz Festival. To July 3 at various venues. Schedule, tickets and info: CoastalJazz.ca.

Dan Mangan

My feature on Dan Mangan appears in this week's WE.

Dan Mangan: “I feel like I wrote 100 terrible songs before I wrote anything that was worth keeping around.”

Credit: supplied

Dan in real life

By Andrea Warner

Dan Mangan knows plenty of people were blindsided by the critical acclaim and popularity of his second album, 2009’s Nice, Nice, Very Nice. Suddenly, the 27-year-old Vancouver singer-songwriter was virtually inescapable, on radio and in print. But in reality, Mangan’s been toiling at his craft for 10 years — essentially, this city’s version of an overnight success story.

“I can see that to someone just hearing my name, [my success] would seem very sudden,” Mangan says with a laugh, over the phone from his Kitsilano home. “But it’s the same with anything. By the time there’s a really hip, successful restaurant that everyone knows about, it’s been there for six years, or by the time you’re a really great plumber with tons of referrals... you’ve been at it for six to eight years.”

Mangan’s comparisons are perfectly in keeping with his reputation for being confident yet humble, with a good-natured streak of self-deprecation. These qualities have also helped shape his sound and his storyteller lyrics, though Mangan admits that developing his own musical identity was a lengthy process. “It took me a long time to really figure out what my voice was and feel like myself inside of the songwriting and performing,” he says. “I think for the first number of years anyone is a musician, they just emulate their heroes... I feel like I wrote 100 terrible songs before I wrote anything that was worth keeping around.”

Following the break-up of his high school band, Mangan played around town for a few years before deciding the solo route was his best option. He laughingly refers to the experience of recording his 2003 demos as “a humbling process,” after which he embarked on six to eight months of touring, every year for almost five years. Often it was just him, his train pass, a guitar, and his luggage. “I did tours through Europe, the States, across Canada, even Australia — and, you know, just barely scraping by, going further and further into debt,” he says. “But I always had this blind optimism, this naive confidence that if I kept going, the ball would start rolling downhill as opposed to being pushed uphill.”

Mangan’s first glimpse of success was breaking even on his debut album, Postcards & Daydreaming. He then decided to go for broke, extending his line of credit to record Nice, Nice, Very Nice. The result? A string of sold-out dates, an extended tour, awards, and a coveted spot on the Polaris Prize shortlist. And after years of struggling alone, he’s now signed to Arts & Crafts, longtime home to Broken Social Scene, Feist, Stars, and other indie-rock giants. It’s a move that means he can continue to stay true to his roots.

“I grappled with the idea of moving to Toronto for ages and ages, and always thought that eventually I’d have to,” Mangan admits. “I know tons of musicians who have all, one by one, moved to Toronto or Montreal... [Signing] to Arts & Crafts, which is based in Toronto, was a big sigh of relief, like, ‘Okay, I don’t need to go anywhere.’ They’re on the ground fighting for me in Toronto, so I can just relax in my temperate, beautiful, lovely city that I adore to no end.”

The affection is mutual. Hometown support has helped Mangan from open-mic nights to this week’s two sold-out shows at the Vogue, and his long-held dream of performing at the Orpheum is poised to become reality. And, come December, he’s set to begin recording his third album. According to Mangan, moments like these feel simultaneously earned, phenomenal, and bewildering — just how Vancouver likes its “overnight” success stories.

Dan Mangan performs Nov. 11 & 13 at Vogue Theatre (918 Granville), 8pm. Sold out.

Basia Bulat

My interview with Basia Bulat is online at WestEnder.com

Basia Bulat. Autoharp not pictured.

Credit: supplied

By Andrea Warner

Basia Bulat wasn’t looking to become the face of the autoharp when she released her debut disc in 2005. Made mostly for friends, the self-titled EP featured a variety of stringed instruments, but most people seemed to immediately latch onto her affection for the archaic, seldom-seem zither, thanks in large part to her tendency to pose with one in photographs. The EP caught the attention of legendary U.K. indie label Rough Trade, which, in 2007, released Bulat’s critically acclaimed (and Polaris-nominated) full-length album, Oh My Darling.

Three years later, Bulat’s just released her much-anticipated follow-up, Heart of My Own, another sweetly charming strum-fest that showcases the Ontario native’s strong vocals (reminiscent of Natalie Merchant), and also features subtle detours into rock and roots territory, with plenty of drums, banjo, and violin. And, of course, there’s still the autoharp, which is never far from any conversation about Bulat.

Bulat spoke to WE over the phone last week, while the 2010 Winter Games were still in full swing.

How’s your day going?
I was watching the Olympics. It was great.

Do you have a favourite event?
I’m a little bit partial to watching snowboarding and half-pipe events, just because I used to snowboard. I actually used to teach snowboarding. (Laughs) Yeah, little known fact. I haven’t been in three or four years — it’s shameful, really. It was in high school when I was teaching.

So, it was snowboard and then autoharp.
(Laughs) Yeah. It was a logical progression.

Were you surprised by how well your album was received in this world of Nickelback appreciation, considering it features a lot of ukulele and autoharp?
I wasn’t really surprised because of the instruments I was playing, because I was also playing guitar and piano. I think my first record — I don’t think you can plan for people or expect people to like your music. You just have to be really grateful if they do. It’s not necessarily something where I was going, “Oh, I’m so shocked.” I was just really humbled by it. And for it to mean something to people, that’s a really big thing; that’s not something I would take for granted. I’ve had people come up to me after a show and tell me Oh My Darling has helped them through a really tough time, or different songs have helped them through this or that, and so that’s incredibly moving for me, because that’s what music does for me. To be able to do that for someone else is really incredible.

What’s been the steepest learning curve for you between Oh My Darling and Heart of My Own?
Oh, there are so many learning curves! (Laughs) I don’t think I’ve had it harder than anyone else. I think I work really hard, and I know a lot of artists and musicians who do, and I think a lot of people — it’s also the kind of thing you go through in any career, in a lot of ways. You try to make sure that what you’re doing is being true to yourself and feeling confident in your work. There were certain things for me: for example, I hadn’t played solo until my record had come out. I had this opportunity and it was necessary that I played solo; I was opening for Wintersleep on the East Coast, and I had a band for me for all these gigs, but I had to play this one solo show in Newfoundland. I was terrified because it was 1,000 people! (Laughs) But it’s a testament to how kind and generous the people of Newfoundland are; they made it seem like we were all in a living room together — it was so much fun.

What are the biggest differences between creating music on the road versus a space you call your home?
I still kind of feel like I’m making songs for my friends and myself, so, in some ways, that hasn’t changed. I think a lot of touring — it’s not at home, but just writing songs and performing feels like I’m at home. (Laughs) If that makes any sense. I’m just always writing, so I’m really lucky that I just keep having ideas for songs. I’m the kind of writer that, as soon as an idea comes into my head, I have to try and find a way to get it out, regardless of wherever I am.

Basia Bulat plays St. James Hall (3214 W. 10th), 7 pm. Tickets $16 from TicketWeb.ca