Our Idiot Brother

My review of Our Idiot Brother is in WE this week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OUR IDIOT BROTHER

Starring Paul Rudd, Zooey Deschanel, Elizabeth Banks
Directed by Jesse Peretz
Tired of summer comedies that rely solely on flying feces, projectile vomit or other bodily functions? Our Idiot Brother is the quintessential R-rated comedy for the art-house set: smart, emotional and truly funny — with occasional punctuation marks of witty vulgarity.

Ned (Paul Rudd) is a happy-go-hempy organic farmer who’s tricked into selling pot to a uniformed police officer. A few years later, Ned gets out of prison only to discover his dreadlocked girlfriend, Janet (a brilliant supporting turn from Kathryn Hahn), has moved on. So, he wears out his welcome at the homes of his three sisters: hipster Natalie (Zooey Deschanel), aspiring journalist Miranda (Elizabeth Banks) and harried stay-at-home mom Liz (Emily Mortimer). Ned’s idealist ways throw his sisters’ secretly messed-up lives into total disarray but, of course, since Ned is more idiot savant than idiot, they eventually realize he’s a help, not a hindrance.

Herein, seemingly, lies Our Idiot Brother’s one drawback: Rudd is so affable and charming as Ned, more often than not the sisters are the ones who actually seem like idiots. But, thanks to the deft skills of scriptwriters Evegenia Peretz (the director’s sister) and David Schisgall, the film becomes a sort of  Rorschach test, depending on which character you identify with. That is, of course, if you can stop laughing.

Our Idiot Brother proves edgy comedy gold is possible with nary a staple-gunned scrotum or loose bowel movement. All you need is a great script with fully realized characters and a charming, quirky cast. In other words, Hollywood’s Holy Grail. —Andrea Warner

Wilson Phillips

My interview with Wilson Phillips is in this week's WE.

Wilson Phillips reaps ‘Bridesmaids’ rewards

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Privileged daughters of rock royalty reaping the benefits of nepotism or three talented women crafting the most feel good, guilty-pleasure pop mantra of a generation? This is the great divide separating Wilson Phillips’ detractors and fans, of which both are legion. But suddenly, the band that disappeared quietly into karaoke obscurity is back with a vengeance thanks to the blockbuster comedy Bridesmaids, which features a cameo from Wendy and Carnie Wilson (daughters of troubled Beach Boys’ genius Brian Wilson) and Chynna Phillips (daughter of troubled The Mamas & The Papas leader John Phillips and singer Michelle Phillips), performing their infamous hit single “Hold On.” Now, for the first time since 1990, the year they became famous, the trio is back in Vancouver, performing at the PNE on September 1. WE spoke with the longtime friends over a conference call about their new reality show, their fathers’ musical legacy and their return to the spotlight.

WE: How does it feel to be “back,” as it were?
Carnie: It feels great. I was thinking about this the other day. God, I remember when I used to do things on my own, whether it was promoting a TV show or something, and I thought, I love doing this. It’s fun. But there was always a little part of my heart that felt sad, like I wanted Wendy and Chynna next to me, you know? And now all of a sudden we’re doing it again, and it really made me happy last night [at the Do Something Awards].
Chynna: Yeah, I got the same feeling, too. It was just really nice to hear them all saying, “Hey Wilson Phillips! Chynna, Carnie, Wendy!” And looking over, having our picture taken with our arms around each other. It’s just a warm feeling to be back in the groove, doing what we love, back in our element and our fans being able to see us again. There’s so much synchronicity going on right now.

Were you surprised to get the Bridesmaids call?
Wendy: Yes, we were. We’d never been in a movie together. We were so excited because we knew that Judd Apatow was a part of it and the girls from Saturday Night Live. We had no idea what kind of a movie it was, what script and we just went in blindly and just went for it. But it was such a great thing that we did it. We’re happy it was a big hit and it gave us a lot of publicity, which is great.

“Hold On” seems to be the rallying theme of BFFs. Do you remember the first time you heard it fully produced? Did you have an idea of what it would mean to people?
Chynna: The first time I heard “Hold On” on the radio, we were driving in Chicago in a van on our way to a radio station and it was my 22nd birthday. I just remember how excited I was that the first time I heard it on the radio was my birthday. I remember that it sounded really good; exactly how I thought it was going to sound coming out of those little speakers. The first time we heard it from beginning to end at the studio, we all just kind of looked at each other and giggled because we knew we had a hit on our hands. You just kind of know. How could a lot of people not like this song? (Laughs) It’s just a positive, feel-good, good rhythm, hooky chorus — we knew we had something special on our hands. But we didn’t know it was going to go viral the way it did. It just struck a chord really deep in people.

There are all sorts of rumours about what’s coming up next, including a new album and a reality show.
Wendy: True and true. We’re about to start a reality show. We’re nervous, yet excited about it. We can’t really say much about it except it’s sort of based on our relationships with each other.
Carnie: It’s also sort of following the reunion and the resurgence. The making of the next record, what it’s like to be with us on the road and our lives, the way that they’re strangely intertwined in that we’ve known each other forever, but we have such separate lives. We’re connected through music, but we have nine children between us, so the show is not going to be focused just on us. It will be more how we integrate this career that is blossoming again with our personal lives. And recording the next record.
Wendy: This record we’re doing right now is not an originals record. It’s a cover record of all of our parents’ greatest music. It’s different for us.
Chynna: It’s very exciting, too.
Carnie: We’ve been performing some Beach Boys and Mamas & Papas now in concert for a couple of years and the response from the crowd is really, really positive. It was actually Sony [Music’s] idea to do this. And it’s not that we were hesitant but we were so anxious to get in the studio and write and partner up with Glen Ballard again — which we know will happen but this was Sony’s idea. We’ve never done it and we almost feel like we have to do it at some point, because it’s such a natural thing. And as we were doing it, we realized just how classic these songs are and how much of a fan base there is out there. Two generations back and then this generation. I think it’s really going to appeal to a lot of people.

Could each of you tell me what your father taught you about music?
Wendy: Even though our mother taught us how to sing harmony, I think just that inherent love of harmony would be from our dad. He taught us how beautiful it is. That’s one thing the Beach Boys and Wilson Phillips have in common: the sound, the voices blending together. It makes it so magical and that’s something that makes us stand out from other people.
Carnie: I definitely think that’s a strong thing that’s been passed down, that it’s in the family. Dad sang with his brothers and Wendy and I sing together and it’s almost like Chynna’s a sister anyways, we’ve known each other our whole lives and when we do sing together, it’s so meant to be, it feels like family. I would say the ability to have an ear, to really hear pitch and harmonies and notes and the blend of it.
Chynna: My dad taught me that when you write a song, write about something that is universal and that people can identify with. Whenever I sit down to write, I always try to think, okay, is this way too personal? Is it something that only a handful of people will be able to understand? I think that’s one of the reasons “Hold On” went viral. So many people struggle and so many people have a difficult time getting through the day. If they can just hold on for this one day and things are going to start going your way, everyone can hold on for just one day. That was a really universal message.
Wilson Phillips perform Sept.1 at PNE Concert Stage, 8pm. Free with PNE admission

Girl Talk

Last week's WE cover story: My interview with Girl Talk!'

Gregg Gillis, aka Girl Talk

Credit: Supplied

A LITTLE GIRL TALK

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Gregg Gillis is used to being the epicentre of sweaty, writhing masses. For the last 10 years, the 29-year-old former engineer has been performing as Girl Talk, the hype-worthy mad maestro who has elevated mash-ups and digital sampling to an almost scientific art — hearing, segmenting and remastering pieces of other peoples’ songs into something new. Hence, he’s also no stranger to copyright controversy: Gillis has released five albums — all for free — featuring thousands of samples from mostly mainstream pop, rock and Top 40 songs. Even though Gillis’ music has come under scrutiny, he’s built an untouchable reputation as the number one party-starter, playing everything from small club gigs to massive festivals. He’s won over legions of fans thanks to his all-consuming performances wherein he crafts entire hour-long shows on his laptop, live, often using as many as 400 samples. Gillis spoke with WE in preparation for his slot at the Live at Squamish music festival, bringing his trademark dance party up the mountain.

I think of your work as a little like Dr. Frankenstein, piecing together disparate bits to craft a new whole. How do you view what you do?
Greg Gillis: I can see it as that, but it’s sort of rooted in many things, so I’ve never thought of it in terms of that because I grew up listening to hip hop and like, Public Enemy records which were a big collage of sound. Then, moving on to stuff like Negative Land. The reference points for me were that music and very precise electronica, where precision is an important part of it being cut up, so I like that collage of pop music. I try to reach all around and part of the fun is having source material that seems all over the place. Perhaps Frankenstein-like is more interesting than if it was just all rock songs or all pop songs. I try to sample from as wide a variety of pop music as I listen to.

Do you remember when you first started experimenting with that dismantling and rebuilding process?
I was kind of doing it a little bit prior to even the start of calling it Girl Talk. I started doing Girl Talk in 2000 and I was in a band prior to that in high school. It was a more avant-garde noise band and it was just me and my friends, a bratty take on noise music. Very invasive and no real traditional song structure, but we used to sample music in a real bratty way — like show up at a show and turn on the pop radio station and then make noise over top of it, or do a show where it’s just 20 skipping CDs playing at once while we’re smashing televisions. All of that definitely laid the groundwork and I love that dichotomy between pop and noise... I think the whole Girl Talk thing is just a more refined version of stuff I was doing with my band in high school.

You typically use songs that fall in the pop or rock genres. Are there other genres you want to incorporate?
It’s more like, not necessarily genres, but it is exciting to maybe sample more obscure things, like that music would maybe have different intentions. Right now, I’ve been kind of on a cycle of every few years I put out another album and when I finish, I start working on new music immediately because I want to do stuff for the shows that relates to that album. When I make music on a daily basis, I’m always thinking about the next weekend, and the next weekend might be a festival where I’m going to be in front of 10,000 people. Or, it might be a club where 500 people paid to see the show. So, in those cases I want to make something that I enjoy and a progression of the evolution of what I’ve done beforehand. But definitely something that relates to that music. I’m in it all the time and I play so many shows, it’s hard to find time to branch out outside of that. But occasionally I’ll sit around and sample something more obscure, or a hip hop beat, just for my own enjoyment. At some point I’m definitely looking forward to the shows slowing down, just because I haven’t really stopped touring in four or five years now. At some point I would expect that I’ll make the decision to stop or there will be a year where I’ll only do 20 shows, that would really impact my life. If I had a month in front of me where I wasn’t expected to make an album or didn’t have to prepare for a show, I’d be really excited to just sample other stuff in music or even sample pop music but maybe do it differently. There’s just so many ways you can work a sample, whether you play the melody straight up or chop it up to a point where it’s unrecognizable — there’s many places to go.

Tons of people sample other peoples’ work, but it’s fallen to you a lot to talk about copyright.
Fair use allows you to use samples without asking for permission, if it falls under certain criteria. That, in itself, is a really positive thing. But the details surrounding it are a little ambiguous and what qualifies under it may be a little strict. I’m not anti-copyright. I don’t believe you should be able to buy a CD and burn it 10 times and go on the street and sell it, I don’t believe in that. I believe in copyright and it stands for a reason, I don’t believe in anarchy in that system, but I do believe that you can take something previously existing and make something new out of it in such a way that it’s not negatively impacting the source material or hurting the sales or debasing the artist. If it’s not a competition, I think you should be able to present that as a new work and sell it. When you’re in my position and you make music and you want to put it out, you put it out there and it just falls into that grey area. You don’t truly know whether a judge thinks it would fall under fair use or not. I think the general perspective of the world is shifting a bit, just in the general sense of intellectual property and ownership of ideas. And being attached to the internet has really changed everything. It’s like, I’ve been doing this for 10 years now and people have been sampling forever, but I do think at the beginning of this project, that doing an unsolicited pop remix was fairly unusual. It happened, but it wasn’t that common. Now, the same day every new Lady Gaga song comes out, immediately hundreds of remixes and fan-made videos come out. Everyone is constantly interacting with the media that they consume. I think artists and fans and everyone understands that and a lot of it is not necessarily hurting those sales, it’s just widening the audience. With my particular case, it seemed like the discussion five or 10 years ago was, ‘When am I going to have a problem?’ But now I hear from so many A&R people and labels and I get so many promos, I think people are seeing eye-to-eye on it. It’s not an issue. People really see that if I was to sample one of their artists, it’s not going to negatively impact them. It could potentially lead to a few new people hearing about it.

You’re putting everything together live when you DJ.
That’s why I’ve never even considered it DJ-ing. I’ve always thought of it more as live electronica music. It’s not a slight against DJs or anything, but that’s something where it’s all loop-based samples and in the 10 years of doing this, I’ve never played someone’s track unaltered, which to me is sort of the definition of a DJ, you’re playing other peoples’ music... I always played as a live electronica musician, it was always framed in that way from the get-go. The kind of technology I started using in the early days is still what I use now. It’s a program where there’s a bunch of loops and everything is very isolated and through the course of an hour-long show, I may go through 400 samples or something like that and I trigger everything by hand. It’s definitely the sort of thing where the sets are practiced beforehand and rehearsed. I have an idea how to play it, but everything is live. If I want to skip over something or I feel like changing something up or repeating something twice, I can do that. A lot of times I’m figuring stuff out on the fly, or I might make a small mistake and have to figure out how to transition in or out of that or what the sound system and audience are like will really determine certain details.

The mash-up has become a vital component of mainstream pop culture. Glee has really taken that over. How do you feel about that?
It’s fun. To me the word mash-up describes a tiny piece of sample-based electronic music, but the idea has existed for many years prior. It’s been fun to watch that word exist and grow.  It’s thrown around everywhere and I think the idea’s been around for a while. It goes back to like, Stars on 45 and medleys from the ’60s and ’70s and going back to classical music and sharing motifs. Seeing it have that mainstream exposure just highlights how it’s a fundamental part of the creative process. It’s always a little weird to me when people draw those clear-cut lines between sample-based music and playing in bands, because to me there are so many parallels. You can hear any band and really piece apart their influences and you can tell where it’s coming from. What I’m doing is a more physical version of that. Like I said before, the general world perspective on intellectual property is changing and people are seeing all these examples of taking something and very blatantly putting a new spin on it. Things like Glee are very healthy, just so people can understand that you can take something that previously exists and make it new by putting it in a new context. That idea’s been around since the dawn of time and it’s just becoming more apparent. Like, it’s something you don’t even have to explain to a 10-year-old kid anymore, they’re so surrounded by remix culture. I think that’s a positive thing. Songwriting is all about self-expression. That just gets so icky and narcissistic. If it is about self-expression, then you’ve got to have a lot of craft and a lot of skill to pull it off so it doesn’t just turn into a navel-gazing thing, you know? Someone who really has true discipline, who has worked on their skill and has a way around a back beat.

Live At Squamish runs Aug. 20-21 in Squamish at the Logger Sports Grounds. Girl Talk plays Saturday on the main stage at 9:40pm. $90-$149 from LiveAtSquamish.com.

Bare: A Pop Opera

My WE cover story this week is about Fighting Chance Productions' 20th show, Bare: A Pop Opera and its relevance to gay youth.

Baring It All

Posted By: Andrea Warner

For the first time in weeks, the sun is shining, the sky is blue and — oh, there’s a used condom not three feet from the door of the building I’m about to enter. The respite from Vancouver’s dismal summer seems somewhat incongruous with this area of Vancouver, known mostly for its rundown warehouses, hookers and sketchy dudes cruising in rusted-out beaters. But in the middle of these shady surroundings, up two short flights of stairs, a crew of young actors are singing, dancing and sweating their way through a 10-hour rehearsal of Bare: A Pop Opera, Fighting Chance Productions’ 20th show in just four years.

Braedon Cox is in the middle of performing a powerful, gut-wrenching number. It’s his first show with the flourishing, volunteer-based theatre company, after recently returning from a scholarship stint in Los Angeles at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, nods and begins again, his voice soaring over the keyboard. As the rest of the cast joins in, the small room is suddenly packed with emotion, the harmonies drowning out the rev of motorcycles in the distance. Nothing matters except this moment, witnessing Cox and crew establish so clearly Bare’s central theme: the fresh hell that is being a teenager — more specifically, a gay teenager who believes in God.

Bare was first staged in 2000, eventually making its way to off-Broadway for a short run in 2004. Musically it follows in the spirit of Rent and Spring Awakening — rock heavy, with occasional detours into gospel and soul — but story-wise, it takes its cues from Shakespeare and Degrassi, with plenty of emotional torment, betrayal, sex and drugs. Cox plays Peter, a 17-year-old boy who has been having a secret affair with his roommate and best friend, Jason (Lucas Blaney) for years. After much soul searching, Peter’s ready to come out of the closet, despite his conservative surroundings. Jason has no desire to come out the closet and gives in to wild, pretty Ivy (Lena Dabrusin), with tragic results.

“I had people at school in Los Angeles who were quite successful in the film industry tell me never come out of the closet, you’ll always be typecast, you’ll never be taken seriously, blah blah blah,” Cox recalls. “I never agreed with them. What does it have to do with anything? If I’m a gay actor, I’m a gay actor. I don’t let being gay define me and it shouldn’t define who I am as an actor.”

Outside Waterfront Theatre, just 30 minutes after opening night comes to a close amidst thunderous applause, Cox is visibly exhilerated. At 21, the star of the show is himself barely out of his teens. He remembers his own angst well enough to identify with and convey Peter’s beautifully, though there’s a world of difference between himself and his character. Cox has left Peter’s awkward body language and hurt confusion on stage where it belongs. Here, he’s smiling and joking, speaking with the kind of clarity and peace typically reserved for those decades older. But, in spite of his confidence, Bare reflects a reality Cox knows all too well: the culture of shame and confusion that surrounds teens and homosexuality.

Messages like that make Cox grateful that shows like Bare exist, particularly in the current cultural climate. The last few years have seen religious beliefs crushing marriage equality in the U.S., not to forget our own Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s well-publicized belief that same-sex marriage is not a human right. Adding to the devastation: the recent influx of headlines about bullied gay youth committing suicide — which prompted Dan Savage’s It Gets Better project. Though it was written over a decade ago, Bare’s subject matter has, sadly, perhaps never been more relevant.

“It’s so important for us to do shows like this, to stick people in there and say, ‘Hey, you can’t look away.This is what’s happening. People are killing themselves,’” Cox says. “[Teens need to be told] just be yourself. Nobody has all the answers. Don’t look to a religion to help you out in these matters, look within yourself. There’s life beyond the walls of your high school or church or family’s house. You can live a fulfilling relationship with someone who really loves you and love them back, someone who will walk through life with you.”

It’s a powerful message that Cox is happy and proud to help deliver with each performance of Bare. He’s hopeful that people will take a chance on the gritty, controversial subject matter and see it as an opportunity to better understand the reality facing gay and questioning teens.

“I’ve had people in the cast tell me, ‘Oh, I don’t know if I’m going to invite my dad because he’s not really into this kind of thing’ and I’m like, no, these are the types of people you need to invite,” Cox says. “You need to get them in the theatre. The way being gay is portrayed in the media and magazines is completely far off, so many things that are not defining who we truly are as people and Bare gets so much deeper than that. It really analyzes the heart and soul of homosexuals’ minds. It’s not just waving flags and Britney Spears.”

In fact, the experience has meant so much to him, he’s calling on the LGBTQ community to join him in reaching out to teens.

“As an accepted gay person, we owe it to go back to the teenagers and help them through the struggling phase,” Cox says. “It can be so traumatizing. Everyone in the community should come together helping these kids. We don’t need anymore deaths on our hands.”

Bare: A Pop Opera runs to Aug. 13 at Waterfront Theatre, 8pm. $20-$30 from Tickets Tonight.

Imelda May

My WE music feature this week: Imelda May!

Imelda May

Credit: Supplied

The ‘Mayhem’ and magic of Imelda May

Posted By: Andrea Warner

If you’re a sucker for an accent, singer/songwriter Imelda May’s adorable Irish lilt is as stick-to-your-ribs satisfying as a Guinness stew. It’s just a few weeks before she returns to Vancouver for the Burnaby Blues & Roots Festival, sharing a bill with Canadian icon k.d. lang, but she’s already celebrating: her second studio album, Mayhem, has just come out in Canada following a staggered release in Europe then the U.S.A. After a slow burn, it shot up the charts thanks to an audience hungry for May’s unique blend of rockabilly chic, sexy blues and vintage Irish influences. It’s been a triumphant year for May, who got her start singing in clubs when she was just 16: she wowed millions during her Grammy appearance with Jeff Beck, toured with Meat Loaf and is proving something of a pioneer in the industry as one of a handful of women producing their own albums.

WE: Do you remember the first song you sang where you felt you’d really found your voice?
May: Ooh, I was maybe 16 or 17. When I was 16, I started playing in clubs. God, what was the song? I sang all the time. I can’t remember the name of it! I used to call it me anthem, I used to end every set with it. People would shout for it at the end of every gig. It’s on the tip of me tongue. Oh! “Bring It On Home!” That’s what I sang all the time. It’s an old number, I’d toy with it, change it each time. I got to play with it a lot.

How would you change it?
Do you know, I’ve never told anybody this before, but when I was a kid — thinking of it now, I was so obsessed with music early on I used to listen to records, with my ear to the speaker, so I could hear every single thing. I remember when I was 17 or 18, singing in these rootsy clubs, the blues, jazz, country, and traditional Irish of course, and rockabilly, I remember I used to just pick any song, like “Happy Birthday” or anything at all, and I used to sit as if I was day dreaming and I’d try to sing it in as many different styles as I could. I suppose I was learning without realizing it. I’d do a gospel version, you know [sings a few phrases of “Happy Birthday”] or you might do a rock ‘n’ roll [sings a totally different, snarling version] and I would do that with any kind of song.

How have your songs evolved?
I don’t know. As a writer, hopefully you try and get better all the time. That’s natural, as I’m sure for you too, you try to improve constantly. The influences have stayed the same, still with the chunk of rockabilly and blues and jazz and a bit of post-punk, with a bit of traditional Irish. I tried to evolve on the production more than anything else. With Love Tattoo, I had a record deal and they said they wanted it turned up a notch, they wanted it more produced, let’s call a big producer in and I said, no, no, I’ll do it. And they were like, “Wha?!” They were having heart attacks and fighting me against it, and I said, no, I’m producin’ me own album. It’s what I do. They said, “We want this to be moved on a bit.” Me too, I said. They tried to get me to meet producers, which I did, but then I went into the studio without telling anybody and I decided to record the album and produce it without anybody knowing. I played them what I’d come up with and they were happy! I wanted this album to be a little bit more pushed along without losing the charm of the first two. I wanted to be a little more creative on it and I had a little bit more time. Not much more, but for instance, I wanted to put backup vocals on it, so I generated me backup vocals, I just do that myself. I have a great band who are very talented and play many different instruments.

Your label trusts you more as a producer, I assume.
They do now. Initially they thought I’d produce the same album, they wanted a little bit more from it, but once they heard I wanted the same, I think they were still nervous. It’s not the usual thing, usually you get a big shot producer, but I really didn’t want that. I can hear me own stuff and I love producing and I knew exactly what I wanted the album to sound like. I wanted to get me teeth into it, really. Once I got going on it, they were very supportive and they backed off.

It doesn’t seem like there are many women producing their own work. Am I wrong?
No, I don’t think there are many. I think a lot of people will maybe doubt themselves and get a producer in, but I love that side of it. I’ve been in studios for years... Maybe it’s confidence, I don’t know, all I know is that I know how me own music should sound. I don’t want anybody else’s take on it. It’s in my head, I can hear it when I’m writing it... As weird as this sounds, I like sitting there listening to seven drum takes.

You’re pretty well known in Ireland and the U.K., but not as well this side of the Atlantic. Is there pressure on you to become a hit?
No, no. I do my thing and hopefully it works. I love doing it and so far it’s doing well. I was surprised — the album just came out in Canada — it’s come out in staggered amounts and it started off slow but then went crazy, to like number seven or something in the charts, so I never expected, I suppose, my career to even go this well when I made my first album. I wasn’t signed to a record label and I was expecting to just live out of my suitcase, that’s what I’d been doing before. I love it, I don’t feel pressure. If it goes well, great, and if it doesn’t, well I get to do what I love.

You appeared on the Grammys with Jeff Beck. Was that a surreal experience?
Yes. Completely surreal. It was a very weird and great day. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Very strange to be standing in a queue for photos with all the press. Course, nobody knew who I was. They knew I was with Jeff Beck. You do interviews beforehand and then you do the photos, then the performance and then more interviews after. Before we were walking up and everyone’s calling, like “Alice Cooper!” — he was beside me —  “John Legend, we want an interview! Pink, we want an interview!” And I’m just walking around and some girl has my name on a placcard walking in front of me, which made me laugh my head off, and somebody else is going, “do you want to interview her?” [meaning me] and they’re like, “Who? No.” Then I ended up in a queue for the photos between Pink and Mary J. Blige and then the Jonas Brothers and Nicole Kidman skipped the queue and then we went off and I did the photos, did the performance, and when I came out it was completely different! They were shouting “Imelda! Come talk to us! Imelda! Imelda!” Within a couple of hours or so, it was fun. It felt like a dream! We go there, did the performance and then we were on the plane straight back home and me and my husband woke up in bed and I just looked at him and said, “Did that really happen?” It was so funny and great.

You toured with Meat Loaf. Did he give you any awesome advice you’d like to pass on?
Meat Loaf is a brilliant man. I love him to bits and he’s a wild performer. He told me “Oh, you have to love it.” And then, “I’m an actor. I’m not a singer, I’m an actor. I act my songs.” Which is exactly what he does. He gets right into character for every song. It’s amazing. He said, “I’d love you to get up and do a song with me.” And I said I’d love to, brilliant. And on the last night he said, “Would you shoot T-shirt guns at the audience?” And I said, I would, yeah! He said, “Do you know what they are?” And I said, yeah, I think so. He had a glint in his eye. And I’m up singing with him and then they come up and — I don’t know whether you want to put this in your paper, by the way, you might not want to — they strapped this thing on to me that was a giant hot dog that was supposed to look like a giant penis. (Laughs) That was the one night my family had decided to come. Out of the very top of it, a tiny little ball of a white T-shirt shot out of it. My God, I nearly died, but I laughed me head off.

Imelda May plays at 5:05pm at the Burnaby Blues & Roots Festival Aug. 13 at Deer Lake Park, $65 from Ticketmaster or $70 at the gate, 1-10pm. Info: BurnabyBluesFestival.com.

Die Roten Punkte

Totally forgot to update my site with my cover story from last week: Die Roten Punkte. You can still catch them at the Cultch until Aug. 13.

Die Roten Punkte

Credit: Supplied

The funny business of turning music into ‘Art’

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Take everything that follows with a grain of salt. Otto and Astrid Rot comprise the greatest band you’ve likely never heard of and they have quite a story to tell. Tragically, horrifically orphaned at a tender age, the German siblings were then subjected to an abusive aunt and uncle before finally fleeing for the squats of Berlin. They channeled their torment into Die Roten Punkte, “the greatest band in the world,” which got its start as a hilarious Fringe show that’s blossomed into a touring production and spawned three albums so far, including their newest record, Kunst Rock. The Rots poke with WE from a hotel room in Los Angeles, where they’re resting up before making their grand return to Vancouver, home of their beloved Banana Guards.

WE: Have you adopted an LA rock star lifestyle?
Otto: Oh yeah. Last night we were kicking by the pool, that’s how they say it here. You don’t actually do any kicking, though, that would be dangerous. Astrid is here, too.
Astrid: I just got home, so I am a little bit kooky.

Did you do the “walk of shame” home?
Astrid: There was no shame. It was a cool night.
Otto: You have to be careful with Astrid because she was in drug and alcohol rehabilitation.
Astrid: Stop it, Otto. That’s private. Shut up. I was having a great time. I went to a cabaret night last night. It was very cool. And then we went dancing later, it was very nice... You made a mistake going home so early Otto.
Otto: But the hotel has high speed Internet.

What kinds of things do you do that you require such a high speed?
Otto: Talk to friends and make videos. I have friends in bands all over the world. Also lots of straight edge friends, like people into politics and food. We’re always talking about lots of straight edge — do you know what straight edge is?

Umm, more conservative?
Astrid: No, she doesn’t want to know.
Otto: It surprises me because it’s so famous everywhere, I thought everyone knew.
Astrid: It’s boring Otto, no one cares.
Otto: In the 1980s there was a new movement of punk music and it was coming out of Washington and it was a whole lot of people listening to bands like Minor Threat. It was people who listened to hard edge rock ‘n’ roll music, but also talking about social issues in the world and caring about the world and not taking alcohol or drugs.

Like the rock version of Family Ties?
Otto: Really?

Maybe. Can you tell me a little bit about how you came together as a band?
Otto: We grew up outside Berlin in Grunewald, and then it was very sad, when we were little and on our way to the zoo, our parents they were killed by a lion. The zoo was very close by. So we had to go home with no parents —
Astrid: That’s not true at all. What happened was we were on the way to the zoo for my 12th birthday and our parents were killed by a train —
Otto: It was a lion!
Astrid: That’s completely stupid.
Otto: It was a lion!
Astrid: Andrea, you don’t believe it was a lion, right?

I respect both your versions.
Astrid: It would be a big news item: Lion escapes from a German zoo, killing two people. It was a train and afterwards when we were home we were all alone and our aunt and uncle came to stay with us and were very nasty.
Otto: They made us do cooking and chopping wood and dancing.
Astrid: Anyways, I took Otto and we ran away to Berlin and it was the late ’80s and we lived in a squat —
Otto: Do you know what a squat is? No furniture, concrete everywhere.
Astrid: Yes, she knows. There were lots of musicians everywhere in Kreutzberg and I guess it was just inevitable that we would end up in a band. I was going out to see lots of bands, but nobody seemed to want to be in a band with Otto and I, so I was like, don’t worry Otto, we will just make our own band and we’ll be the best band in the whole world. Pretty much that’s what’s come true.

You have the title of best band in the world?
Astrid: Well, we wrote the song first and have the t-shirts. The t-shirts say “I’m in a band,” but really, if you look between the lines, read the subtext, it really says “I’m in the best band in the whole world.”

Do you have peers that you feel are almost as good as you?
Astrid: There are lots of those bands, but they’re not playing so much now. David Bowie —
Otto: There are lots of bands that we love and whose energy we’d like to be like.
Astrid: I really like Blondie.
Otto: Devo, Talking Heads, B52s.
Astrid: I like Florence and the Machine and Arcade Fire.
Otto: We love Arcade Fire. I love Tegan and Sara.

They’re Vancouverites!
Otto: They live in Vancouver? No way! I wonder if we could get them to come to our concert?
Astrid: They’re probably busy, Otto. Touring somewhere in the world.
Otto: I’m going to Facebook them.
Astrid: They wouldn’t be answering their Facebook. They would have somebody else answering their Facebook. We’re the only ones who answer our own Facebook.

Tell me a bit about the new album.
Astrid: We wrote a rock opera in six parts in the middle of the show and it tells the whole story of after our parents died.

Is it a bit darker?
Otto: There are dark moments and happy moments. It’s kind of like a cross between The Who Sell Out, the mini rock opera before Tommy, and Green Day, we were really influenced by them in the last two albums as well, like with American Idiot and “Jesus of Suburbia.” So we just wanted to write our own rock opera of our own story.
Astrid: We also have a Go-Gos track called “Bad is Good.”

Is there a single for the album?
Astrid: Well, the first one is called “Burger Store Dinosaur” and the second one is called “Bananenhaus.”
Otto: That is about a Vancouver invention! Do you know the Banana Guard?
Astrid: We know them, we met them!
Otto: They’re on our t-shirts.

Die Roten Punkte perform to Aug. 13 at The Cultch (1895 Venables), 7pm. Late shows Aug. 6, 13, 10pm. $16-$25 from TheCultch.com

Crazy Stupid Love

My review of Crazy Stupid Love is online at WEVancouver.com

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE

Starring Steve Carell, Julianne Moore, Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone
Directed by Glenn Ficarra, John Requa
Most romantic comedies skip over real human moments, favouring a glossy panache of formulaic plots, stereotypes in place of characters and ridiculous cliches. But now there’s Crazy, Stupid, Love, a film so full of spark, heart and bittersweet moments, it practically hugs your insides.

Cal (Steve Carell) is a chinos-and-running-shoes kind of guy facing single life after finding out his wife of 25 years, Emily (Julianne Moore), cheated on him with David, her coworker (Kevin Bacon). Cal takes up residency at a bar where Jacob (Ryan Gosling), a flashy ladies’ man, takes him under his wing. But, after successfully transforming Cal, Jacob falls for Hannah (Emma Stone) and the professor becomes the student. Sort of. Rounding out this mix is Cal and Emily’s 13-year-old son, the wise-beyond-his-years Robbie (Jonah Bobo), madly in love with his 17-year-old babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who happens to be in love with Cal.

Love has its share of “only in the movies!’ misunderstandings, but Dan Fogelman’s witty, emotionally intelligent script provides a great foundation for what is easily the best ensemble cast in recent memory. Bobo is the heart and soul of the film and Tipton, surprisingly natural, is hands down the best thing to have ever come out of America’s Next Top Model (she placed third in the 2008 cycle). Carell continues to demonstrate his understanding of the nimble line between drama and comedy, and Gosling somehow makes sleazy seem charming before skillfully transitioning to vulnerable. The two share a phenomenal rapport, with each other as well as with Stone and Moore.

It helps that no character — even the philanderers — are relegated to “villain” status. The foils are normal, everyday flaws — circumstance, confidence, time — which makes a lovely change from more traditional Hollywood fare. A romantic comedy that’s warm, funny and raw? To borrow a line from the film itself, Crazy, Stupid, Love is a game changer. —Andrea Warner

Friends With Benefits

My review of Friends with Benefits is online at WEVancouver.com

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

Starring Mila Kunis, Justin Timberlake
Directed by Will Gluck

Let’s clear the air first: Friends with Benefits is the exact same premise as No Strings Attached, but instead of Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher as the attractive-but-damaged leads, here we have Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake as friends who eschew the trappings of romance for the “less complicated” fuck buddy status.

Friends with Benefits is better than No Strings Attached (thanks in part to a cameo from Emma Stone who provides more laughs within Friends’ first five minutes than Strings did in its entirety), but that doesn’t make it great or even that good. It’s another rom-com disguised as edgy (because of all the loveless sex!) that operates under the guise of a self-awareness it doesn’t possess.

Jamie (Kunis) is the neurotic but lovable (of course) headhunter who recruits Dylan (Timberlake) to be the new art director at GQ. A fast friendship forms over the fact that they’ve both been told by crazy exes they’re emotionally unavailable. In a fit of meta humour at about the 30-minute mark, our star-crossed intendeds get drunk and watch a terrible romantic comedy (more cameos, this time from Jason Segal and Rashida Jones) and deconstruct the cheesiness of its emotionally manipulative music and bad dialogue. This leads to sex with one hard, fast rule: No falling in love. Oh, these crazy kids.

But Jamie’s toughness is really a veneer — she equates true love with being rescued by Prince Charming. Her mother, Patricia Clarkson — always a welcome presence, but in danger of being typecast as the kooky sage — advises her to “update her fairy tale,” but why bother when the film doesn’t? Director Will Gluck (Easy A) thinks he’s in on the joke, but his film succumbs to the very rom-com cliches the characters mock, as illustrated during the tumble-y, wordless montage set to the swell of sweet indie-pop as Jamie and Dylan graduate from “just sex” to “making love.”

Kunis and Timberlake are naturally funny and likable in their roles. They deserve a comedy that doesn’t buckle to Hollywood’s weird moral agenda: if the leads’ genitals touch, they have to fall in love. Unfortunately, the stubborn commitment to traditional values softens Friends’ bite.
—Andrea Warner

Steve Martin

My feature on Steve Martin is in this week's WE.

Steve Martin & the Steep Canyon Rangers

Credit: Supplied

Steve Martin is on ‘Alert’

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Steve Martin understands if you hate him. After all, he’s got money, wit and intelligence on his side. His talents are innumerable. And his resume probably gives hives to over-achievers: Comedian, actor, author, playwright, painter, musician... and master banjo player? Yep. That’s right. He’s just finished putting the finishing touches on Rare Bird Alert, his bluegrass, banjo-heavy followup to 2009’s The Crow, recorded with the Steep Canyon Rangers. And even Martin’s not quite sure how he bcame this rennaissance man.

“I don’t know how this happened,” he says, on a conference call with WE and media from across North America. “I really don’t. I think I only do three things and one is comedy, and that includes, to me, acting and music and writing. They’re all kind of just all part of one big creative umbrella. You become a creator, you write a joke, and then you become a fixer, meaning an editor. And that’s — that is involved in everything I do, whether it’s comic acting or performing on stage, writing a novel, or writing music. You are creating it and then you are fixing it. So, I look at it all as just one big conglomeration that has several tentacles.”

Rare Bird Alert exemplifies this perfectly. The album is steeped in serious bluegrass traditions and musicianship, but packs plenty of Martin’s trademark humour throughout. “Jubilation Day” is catchy bit of Americana about the joyous end of a romantic relationship, while “Atheists Don’t Have No Songs” is a nifty gospel parody. Longtime fans are also  rewarded with a bluegrass version of Martin’s famed “King Tut.” Even though the banjo was a staple of Martin’s earlier comedy routines, he admits he was hesitant to combine his two loves at first.

“Once The Crow came out and was received well, I felt a little more relaxed,” Martin says. “And I guess it’s true that when you’re a little more relaxed maybe what’s more natural to you comes out easier... I have a friend, Pete Wernick, who plays the banjo and he said, ‘People would be disappointed if you’re not funny.’ So I just relaxed a little bit on this and decided whatever comes out comes out, you know?... There’s humor and it’s fun, and we also are serious musicians, or at least I am. The group is definitely serious musicians, and so I wanted to put that on.”

Martin’s admiration of the banjo dates back to his teenage years. Now, at 65, he’s still as awed as he was back when it was love at first sound.

“It was about the 1960s, there was a folk music craze led by the Kingston Trio that was sweeping America and the banjo was a part of that craze, and I heard it and I just loved it,” Martin recalls.“And there are a lot folk music groups that eventually led me to bluegrass music to hear Earl Scruggs play and other great three-finger banjo players, and I started buying any banjo record I could get my hands on.”

Martin has continued to find inspiration in sources both obvious (he’s a huge admirer of Grammy Award-winning banjo virtuoso Bela Fleck) and unlikely. After seeing Chris Rock’s new play, The Motherfucker with the Hat, he’s considering writing a musical using his songs as a foundation.

“There are a million ways to be inspired,” Martin says. “Sometimes it’s somebody sitting around by accident, for example, playing the banjo and making a mistake, hitting the wrong chord and going, ‘That sounded good, what was that? I’ve never heard that before.’ Sometimes you’re inspired by a deadline. Mostly just letting your mind wander and finding something fresh that you never thought of before.”

So much inspiration, not quite enough time, particularly with a full agenda the rest of the year, including a starring role in the Vancouver-filmed, competitive bird watching comedy The Big Year. Martin doesn’t know how banjo factors into his future, but he’s hopeful it’ll be prominent.

“This banjo playing moment, whatever it is, I don’t know how long it’ll last,” Martin says. “I hope it lasts a long time because I love it.”

Steve Martin & the Steep Canyon Rangers play July 26 at Centre for Performing Arts, 6:30pm. $49.50-$89.50 from Ticketmaster.

Gillian Welch

My interview with Gillian Welch is in this week's WE.

Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings

Credit: supplied

Gillian Welch’s bountiful ‘Harvest’

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Folk singer/songwriter Gillian Welch’s new album, The Harrow & the Harvest, has been eight years in the making. In that time, she wrote hundreds of songs with partner Dave Rawlings, so imagine if you will, the tattered remnants of those discarded lyrics and tunes becoming fodder for 10 of the saddest, darkest, cut-your-soul-while-you-sleep numbers ever found on one record. A harrowing harvest indeed, yet one that’s starkly beautiful and, as it turns out, a love letter to a life less digital in every way.

But Welch admits that the harrow aspect isn’t simply a reference to writing the album. It alludes to the pair’s old-fashioned approach to recording: a process that toes the line between masochism and ballsyness, all in the pursuit of perfection.

“Sadly, I find that destruction and misery have their place in the creative process,” Welch says. “Dave and I work on analog tapes and we work on this two-inch tape. We don’t do any overdubs, we just record live, but the one thing we do have available to us is analog editing, which means you take a razor blade and you slice up your master and you put it back together with scotch tape, okay? And I honestly believe that, as opposed to working in pro tools where you have this digital safety net, you can hit the undo button a million times and go back, there is something in the bravery and the destruction of slicing up your master that leads to better art.”

Welch wishes more artists were willing to take risks in their recording process. “People give me their records all the time and I actually listen to ’em, and, well, I don’t want it to come out wrong, but I’m so shocked at how bland they are,” Welch says. “I don’t know who they think they’re doin’ a favour, know what I mean? The records that people live with and love, the records that survive decades, they’re not bland.”

Welch admits that people have been surprised by Harrow’s sonic achievements, and in this day of digitization, it’s sort of easy to understand why. The sounds are clear, the harmonies flawless, the guitars perfectly blended. And, then when you realize this has been achieved by two people recording live, it seems almost unfathomable.

“I didn’t realize until recently that the rest of the industry has drifted far enough in another direction that people have been shocked by the sound of this record,” Welch says. “We didn’t realize we were flying a freak flag so high, but then suddenly we looked up and there it was above our heads. We love it. There’s this funny thing that happens with sense of scale in our music and it’s kind of related to our sense of time and place. We seem to float between the here and now and other.”

The record’s influences are equally nebulous. Welch likens Harrow to a Rorschach test, admitting that people have heard everything from blues elements to English folk mixed in with her trademark Americana and bluegrass sounds. She says it’s part of the reason why her audience is so diverse, promising that shoulder-to-shoulder with hippies and country folks one can expect to also see hardcore rock and punk enthusiasts.

“[Those] guys say ours is the only folk music they can stand because they see the kind of gnarly, dark shit in there, for lack of a more eloquent way to put it,” Welch laughs. “We sent the lyrics for this record to the artist who did the cover — he’s a metal artist, quite well known, and his covers usually have decomposing skulls and stuff and he was like, ‘Man, this shit is dark!’”

Well, it was a long harvest.

Gillian Welch plays at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival July 15 on the Main Stage, 8:15pm. $40-$165 from TheFestival.bc.ca.

Rosanne Cash

My new cover story for this week's WE: Rosanne Cash!

COVER STORY: Cash is Queen

Posted By: Andrea Warner

The intervening years between Rosanne Cash’s last Vancouver appearance in 2004 and this weekend’s gig at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival have been, in a word, crazy.

Actually, that’s an understatement. The space between then and now has been occupied by recovery — she underwent brain surgery for a rare, benign condition in 2007; reconciliation — she’s finally made amends with ex-husband, country singer/songwriter Rodney Crowell, and recently spent time in the studio with him and her current husband, musician/producer John Leventhal; and grief — her mother, Vivian Liberto, died in 2005, following her father and step-mother, country icons Johnny Cash and June Carter, in 2003.

It’s that long grieving process that has informed Cash’s last two albums: 2006’s Grammy Award-winning Black Cadillac was Cash’s personal goodbye to her parents, while her 2009 follow-up The List was the ultimate tribute to her father’s legacy — the elder Cash bestowed a list of 100 essential country songs to his daughter on her 18th birthday. Now, at 56 years old, the venerable singer/songwriter/author has just turned a critical eye on her own repertoire, hand-selecting the tracks for the recently released double album, The Essential Rosanne Cash, which spans 1978 to 2011. Cash spoke exclusively with WE, taking a look back at her career, the Carter family education, and her relationship with the Man In Black.

Obviously since the last time you were in town, lots of stuff has happened in your life. What role did writing play in getting you through?
Well, in the the redemptive role that hard work plays in your life. It does for me, anyway. In particular, it’s great for organizing yourself and your thoughts. It helped me make sense of things that, when I’m in the middle of them, felt really big and vague and like a fog. But then writing about them helped me step back. It also makes me feel connected to other people who have gone through the same things: loss, serious illness. You realize you’re not alone in this world.


Do you remember the first song you ever wrote?
Oh God, I was young, 17 or 18 years old. All I remember is that it was very bad. (Laughs) 

You picked the songs for The Essential Rosanne Cash. That seems like the car accident moment, where your life flashes before your eyes.
Yeah, it certainly did. But I feel at my age and at this point and how much work I’ve done that I was able to get an objective view of it. I mean, there were certainly moments where I went, “Oh God, listen to this snare! That big ’80s snare drum, couldn’t we have toned it down just a bit?” (Laughs) But I thought these are all really representative of who I was and the time I was working in and studio techniques and what musicians thought then. It’s all really true and representative. The very first one when I was only 20 or 21 years old, even 10 years ago, I think I would have just cringed and said, “Oh my God, I can’t put that out in the world, it sounds like, you know, a child’s third song she ever wrote!” But, I had a lot of fondness for that girl in listening to it. This is really the very beginning of all this work and it deserves to be there.


Why would one regret what you did back then? It’s helped shape who you are.
Well, if you’re just this engine of self-criticism, like you’re never good enough and you want to keep getting better, you start editing. (Laughs) If I could, I’d probably go back and remix my first record.


Are you naturally a reflective person, or is it agonizing to critique what you’ve done?
No, I’m naturally reflective. I have to pull myself out to look at the outside world more often. John, my husband, has taught me to do that more often. I was reflective to the point of imploding myself. (Laughs) Living in a single universe, it was really important to me to learn how to come out and be more social. I mean these are skills I taught myself: how to be in the world and not see everything as a metaphor for my internal life.

Yeah. Were you a poet originally?
Yes. Of course. (Laughs)

Your dad gave you the list when you were a teenager. Did it mean much to you then?
It did. I think if he had even given it to me two years earlier at 16, I wouldn’t have cared, but at 18 I was out on the road with him, I’d just learned to play guitar, I had an idea that I wanted to be a songwriter and I was spending the most intimate time with my dad. Ever. Since he got off drugs. So he was straight. It was a perfect storm of a perfect moment to give me that list. I took it seriously enough that I saved it for 35 years.

When you’re a teenager, you don’t always appreciate those kinds of things, or it takes a little bit longer.
Well, with many other things it did take a lot longer. But the music was always a way to connect, it was a language, it was currency. He gave me that list and I knew he was giving me himself.

You said you had just learned to play guitar then. Did you learn from your dad?
He showed me a couple things, but the people who really showed me how to play guitar were Carl Perkins and the Carters. Mostly Helen Carter. Anita, Maybelle and June showed me a couple things, but mostly Helen. Because they were all on the road with him that tour that summer and you know, we’d hang out in the dressing rooms and I’d get them to show me things and that’s how I learned. The reason my dad didn’t show me that much is because he was on stage when we were in the dressing rooms.

I love the idea of a backstage guitar clinic.
Not only a guitar clinic but an early American roots music song clinic. They taught me the Carter family lexicon, which, you know, is a tremendous gift.

From a feminist perspective, learning from all of these women to play and write is huge!
I agree. And that doesn’t happen that often. I don’t know anyone that that’s happened for: that a young songwriter receives an entire catalogue of music taught by four women, who were deeply steeped in and created this music. It’s such a gift.

You’re a prolific writer. Was that a direct response to your medically imposed silence when you had polyps on your vocal chords in 1998?
Well, I had already written a book of short stories, so it wasn’t like I hadn’t begun that yet, but yes, when I lost my voice, I started a cottage industry of writing essays. And then I just kept getting commissions to write essays for Rolling Stone, Martha Stewart Living, the Oxford American, it just grew and grew and grew.

Did it take a while to find a tone that worked?
Yeah, it did. It’s like groping through a forest at first. Well, I was trying to find the melody in prose. And, my own voice in the same way that I had at songwriting. It takes some time. I didn’t jump right into it. It’s work, it requires a lot of discipline. I love what Lillian Helman said: “I hate writing, but I love having written.”

Are you working on a new album of original material right now?
I’m writing right now. If I could get off the road, I could finish writing the record. It’s very hard for me to write on the road. I just wrote a song with Cory Chissell. He’s a great young writer. I’m also writing with Mike Doughty in a couple weeks. He’s really great. And, I’m writing something with Joe Henry and I’ve written a few by myself, so I’m getting there. I’m going to record hopefully this fall.

Is it too early to say what you’re writing about?
Well, I’ve noticed I’m writing about science and quantum physics. There’s a lot of poetry in physics. I wrote a song called “Particle and Wave” and I really like that. Since my brain surgery I’ve been particularly interested in neuroscience and quantum mechanics. That is religion to me. To just stand before the mysteries and go, “I don’t get it. But I love it.” (Laughs)

What makes a great songwriter?
Hmmm. Someone who doesn’t write about themes but writes about the specifics. Who can perfectly, seamlessly marry the lyric with the melody. And someone — I just don’t think with great songwriters it’s all about self-expression. That just gets so icky and narcissistic. If it is about self-expression, then you’ve got to have a lot of craft and a lot of skill to pull it off so it doesn’t just turn into a navel-gazing thing, you know? Someone who really has true discipline, who has worked on their skill and has a way around a back beat.

Rosanne Cash plays at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival July 16 on Stage 5, 2:40pm and on the Main Stage, 8:35pm. $40-$165 from TheFestival.bc.ca.

Hannah Georgas

My interview with Hannah Georgas is in this week's WE. She's part of a Vancouver music extravaganza, celebrating some of our city's best local talent.

Hannah Georgas

Credit: Supplied

MUSIC: Homegrown talent show

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Hannah Georgas has just one album to her credit, 2010’s aptly titled This is Good, but amongst music fans and critics, she’s already considered one of Vancouver’s most promising emerging talents thanks to her catchy pop-folk tunes and soulful lyrics. And it looks like the City of Vancouver concurs, with Georgas landing a prime spot during its Vancouver 125 Summer Live free concert series, July 8-10, opening up for Saturday night headliners Neko Case and the New Pornographers. Georgas spoke with WE about her move out west, the local indie scene and gave us the scoop on her new album.

WE: The lineup is pretty fantastic for 125. What does it mean to you to be a part of that?
Hannah Georgas: I think it’s awesome. The Vancouver scene — Mother Mother, the New Pornographers, Neko — they’re all from Vancouver and I think it’s really exciting in that there’s a lot of great music coming out of here and we’re celebrating that.

It’s a nice eye-opener for people who live here and may not realize how awesome the music is locally.
Totally. I think the summer festivals in Canada are pretty rad. The other ones I’m playing this summer, the other acts that are on the bill, I’m just like, this is amazing!

I just got back from Sled Island in Calgary, and I think something like 40 per cent of the bands were from Vancouver.
Wow, that’s pretty awesome. And it’s just been in like, the last three years or so. Or not even. I feel like I’m in a little bit of a bubble because I’m all about Vancouver in one way or another, but it seems like that when you go elsewhere, too.

A lot of bands I’ve spoken to from here have said the geography’s been isolating for them. How do you feel? It hasn’t hindered you, it seems.
No. Well, I’m originally from Ontario, so I don’t know, but I guess it’s that thing when you’re from somewhere you want to be somewhere else, I don’t know. (Laughs) But I love it. I’m a very outdoorsy person, I love bike riding, being active, so for me it’s really nice. It’s really catered to biking people and jogging and all that kind of stuff, so that’s a huge part for me. Every time I look outside and I see mountains I don’t ever take it for granted. I’m just kind of taken aback by everything. I also truly believe that if you’re happy with what you’re doing, it doesn’t really matter where you are. It’s totally your head space. I could be in Timbuktu and having a good time as long as I’m in the right mind. But I feel pretty fresh and I’m on the right path doing what I’m doing, so it feels pretty good.

How long have you lived here?
I think four years now. I originally moved to Victoria and was at UVic and then I stopped going to school and moved here.

If you tried to do a family tree of Vancouver’s emerging indie bands there would be a lot of overlap. How does that co-operation work?
As soon I started making a conscious effort to really work hard and make this the forefront of everything, I found there were people in the scene who were supportive, kind of lifting you up and encouraging you. There are a lot of people in that mind-frame and I feel really lucky that a lot of my close friends out here are doing this and they’re doing really well. I’m huge fans of my friends, too, like Mother Mother and Shad and Yukon Blonde. I’m really stoked for them. And, there’s another good friend of mine, she used to play in a band called Portico and she’s started up a new band and it’s awesome! It’s just getting off the ground, but the record, I think, is amazing. The band’s called Drawn Ship.

There’s something really heartening seeing bands help each other out.
I think it’s changed a little. I remember talking to somebody who was like, “I remember the Vancouver scene wasn’t like this. It’s changed quite a bit.” If I’m really into somebody’s music and they ask me to come sing or help out, it’s like, yeah, of course, I wanna help out and just be supportive.

What’s next?
I stopped everything in April and have been busy writing and demoing, just getting ready to make another record in the fall.

Is it too early to talk about some of the themes?
I feel like I’ve been through quite a bit in the last year, personally, with a lot of things. My dad passed away a couple years ago, right when I was recording my last record, so I touch on a little bit of that. And, growing up, maturing with things, love. It’s got a mixture of some dark stuff and then it steps over into the lighter end of things. But I think it’s really interesting and as a writer, I’m constantly learning. I just hope that I’m progressing and maturing and putting good stuff out there.

Vancouver 125 Summer Live runs July 8-10 at Brockton Oval in Stanley Park. Hannah Georgas performs July 9 at 6:15pm. Full schedule: CelebrateVancouver125.ca.

Bon Iver Exclaim cover

My interview with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver is this month's Exclaim cover story.

Bon Iver

Imaginary Places

Features On the Cover Jul 2011

By Andrea Warner 

"I just don't give a shit if I make a record that everyone hates if I love it."

Justin Vernon, aka Bon Iver, is a few weeks from launching his highly-anticipated second album, the eponymous Bon Iver, Bon Iver. It's been four years since he self-released For Emma, Forever Ago, a painfully beautiful debut with a compelling mythology surrounding his now-infamous heartbreak. The blogosphere was almost united in singing its praises, building such strong word-of-mouth that it was re-released a year later by indie label Jagjaguwar.

Between then and now is the stuff of a surreal, Hollywood-styled fairytale – complete with a cameo from hip-hop's crown prince, Kanye West, and falling in love with a famous musician he'd idolized. But, the 30-year-old singer-songwriter has no interest in succumbing to the glitz and glamour. For example, rather than sitting in some board room in an office building in LA or New York, Vernon prefers to fulfil this press obligation from the normalcy of his pre-fame existence: walking around his hometown of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, killing time while his "shitty car" gets a tune up.

I can't seem to give up the ghosts in this one," Vernon says. He's referring to the car, but it's fair to say the sentiment has broader implications.

The first time Vernon was in this position – waiting for his record to drop – barely anybody knew For Emma was coming and very few people cared. Four years later, the situation couldn't be more different. "It's kind of weird, to be honest with you, sitting here and doing interviews at this time and having the album not really be out there," Vernon admits. "The first record, I just made and it was just out there, it could do whatever it wanted to, I didn't have to sell it. I feel a little bit of like we're selling it now, but whatever, I'll live and learn. It's the waiting and like, marketing plans and shit for your record. It's what everyone does, I guess."

The stakes are higher this time around – he has labels, management, and those pesky marketing plans – but Vernon tried not to think about it when he sat down to make his second record, resolute in his convictions: art first, fuck business. And his commitment to his craft has paid dividends. Sceptics worried about a sophomore slump, or those concerned about Vernon's transition from DIY-indie to label-indie, can take a seat. Bon Iver is big, bold and beautifully orchestrated. It's a more challenging, sonically complex album than For Emma, that Vernon says, start to finish, is even more personal.

"The first thing I worked on, the riff and the beginning melodies, was the first song on the record, 'Perth,' back in early 2008," Vernon recalls. "The reason I called it that right away, is because I was with a guy that I didn't know very well. In the three days we were supposed to spend together – he's a music video maker – in those three days, his best friend [Heath Ledger] died. And his best friend was from Perth. It just sort of became the beginning of the record. And Perth has such a feeling of isolation, and also it rhymes with birth, and every song I ended up making after that just sort of drifted towards that theme, tying themselves to places and trying to explain what places are and what places aren't."

The entire album carries that theme, each song crafted and named for a specific place. "Beth/Rest," the album's risky closer is a glorious summation of the album's numerable '80s flourishes – electronic keyboards, vocal distortion, moody saxophone. The Decemberists' Colin Meloy is such a fan of the song, he shared via Twitter that it "never fails to evoke fifth grade me, desperately making out with the crook of my arm." Vernon laughs at the one-sentence review, but also feels compelled to defend it with the earnestness of someone who can't quite take a gently teasing compliment.

That song is like I bit off a lot because I'm going to have to chew on it for a while," he says. "People – and I don't really blame them because I'd probably be doing the same thing – but for me, living with that song and writing it when I wrote it, and putting it at the end of this album that I'm so, so proud of to be truthfully honest, the song doesn't come from some kind of ironic push. I don't know how to explain it. It's like, deeply serious." He laughs at himself, but continues. "All those sounds... have been crafted by engineers and people trying to be cool, but I don't give a shit about being cool. I definitely recognize using the sounds that I did in that song might seem like I was trying to do something to not be cool, but that's just how uncool I am, I guess."

He may be deeply sensitive, but it's hard to argue he's uncool. If his reluctant celebrity status doesn't afford a certain level of cool, then his starring role as Kanye West's right hand man last year does. Their collaboration on West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy was the stuff of a hipster's wet dream, and Vernon himself sounds like he still can't quite believe it was real.

"We'd heard that he was interested, but I was working on my album and said, 'Well, if Kanye wants to work together, have him come out to Wisconsin," Vernon recalls. "But then his flight got cancelled and we ended up having a really long conversation on the phone and he's just like, 'Dude, it's fuckin' cold in Wisconsin. Let's hang out in Hawaii.' So we did the Hawaii thing for about three weeks."

Vernon's fame got him on Kanye's radar, and it's also partly responsible for the new love in his life: Toronto-based alt-country singer-songwriter Kathleen Edwards. According to published reports, the two struck up a professional friendship, which quickly turned personal over a year ago. He's also co-producing her upcoming fourth album. One can easily hear Vernon's grin as he talks about how important she's been to him, even before they knew each other.

I've been a fan since 2003 when Failer came out and meeting her last year, it's just been one of the best relationships, you know?" Vernon says. "It's been so fun and easy and just being such a fan of her music – I'm like beyond a fan of her music. Like, her music was my music for many years. Like, it was just crazy how much I needed her records to be in my life."

Statements like these echo the appealing foundations of Bon Iver's music: an unguarded sincerity that should seem fragile, until one realizes how much strength there is in honesty. It's what his fans respond to, consciously or not. Vernon admits that his heart-on-his-sleeve approach has made parts of his life difficult, but it's preferable to the industry's status quo of manufactured bullshit.

He credits his first industry friends, Kelly Crisp and Ivan Howard, the couple behind indie rock band the Rosebuds, with showing him the importance of being genuine as well as negotiating the move from DIY to label artist. Back in 2007, when he was deep in the mire of his pre-For Emma existence – reeling from the dissolution of his band, DeYarmond Edison, and his romantic relationship – Vernon found himself alone and far from home in Raleigh, NC, contemplating the remnants of his tattered life. He had few friends and nowhere to go, until he met Crisp and Howard.

They'd heard I kinda knew how to record stuff and produce so we kind of went out on a limb to work with each other," Vernon says. "We didn't really know much about each other, but I ended up staying there for about six weeks making a record [Night of the Furies] with them. They were really my first friends who were in a professional band that toured... I was in awe of them and learned from them. They were so kind and so do-it-yourself, like truly indie and independent. And watching their relationship with Merge blossom – I don't know. Going right from there to going to work on my album – it was actually during that six weeks that I wrote my first song, 'Flume', for my record and then I took that and went up to the cabin. It was my last time in Raleigh before I went off and made that record, so it was a really, really big deal."

After For Emma came out, Vernon could have just blended into a sea of similarly bearded folkies, but his falsetto and the layers of lush harmonies and distinctive chamber-folk rhythms were a stark contrast to his genre's brethren. People responded to his unique sound, possibly in part just celebrating diversity in a fairly conformist, commercially-driven industry.

"Even really good people who are in A&R departments across the country – they are, unfortunately, not in a job of creativity, they're in a job of trying to match artists with a market," Vernon says. "We can sit around and talk about it, but guess what happens every ten years or so: somebody comes along and changes the entire game with their music. It's important for an artist to have some knowledge of that sort of thing, if only so they know they should be concentrating on music and nothing else."

The maelstrom of changes between then and now have inevitably taken their toll. While he's grateful for the luxury to afford making the kind of record he wanted to, there are other demands with which he's still struggling, such as the business of self-promotion.

There's this New York Times article coming out this week and there's nothing in it that isn't true, it's just that the little facts that were chosen to try to like, oh, what is it called, amplify the writer's wishes, or like, the editor trying to make something 'sexy' or something," Vernon says. "It seems so obvious to me. It just feels like Sesame Street to me, you know. But at the same time, that's how everything is, that's how all things are minus a few random artists or writers that choose to not play those games. That's what we were talking about early on with Kelly and the Rosebuds and DIY. Don't play the fuckin' games."

Keeping company with Kanye and falling in love with Kathleen are also indicative of just how surreal Vernon's journey from no-name to brand name has been. But, in part, it's Vernon's contempt for the hype machine – which has caused more than a few egos in the music business to self-combust – and his Midwestern sensibilities that have helped ground him. It's also provided some much-needed perspective about his new album, successful or not.

You start to believe for a quick second, like, oh man, maybe I am weirdly chosen for some weird fuckin' thing, but luckily I realized that's just totally inappropriate and self-involved. I'd much rather just have a life that I get to choose and change and adapt and grow and love and die, you know?" he laughs. "It's much more enriching for me, and I feel much more healthy in the relationships with the people around me as opposed to what you could end up feeling like if you follow that other path down the road. With that sort of attitude, I just don't feel any pressure. I'll just sink back in to my Wisconsin-y vibe and keep doing what I always did."

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.

Steve Earle

My cover story for this week's WE: Steve Earle

Vancouver International Jazz Fest headliner Steve Earle.

JAZZ FEST: Steve Earle’s personal chords

Posted By: Andrea Warner

Steve Earle has logged a lot of miles throughout his career, but it’s the path between his head and his heart that’s gotten the most wear and tear the last few years. Over his turbulent career, the outspoken singer/songwriter has cultivated a reputation as equal parts rebel, sage, activist and recovering addict. Musically his songs have bridged a multitude of genres — mostly folk, country and bluegrass — but it’s what he does with words that’s made him an iconic, and occasionally controversial, pop-culture figure.

Now, at 56 years old, Earle has made his most personal art yet. Three years ago, amidst one of the most artistically demanding moments of his life — writing both a book and a new album — his father died. The two works ended up sharing the same title, I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive, borrowed from Hank Williams’ famously last-recorded song and both explore themes of spirituality and mortality. They are snapshots of his pragmatic tenderness, and hauntingly beautiful in their own fractured ways. In advance of his headlining gig at the Vancouver International Jazz Festival, Earle spoke candidly with WE about his relationship with his dad, his recovery process, getting in Ice-T’s face and his love of Harry Potter books.

You can really feel the energy on the new album.
Thanks. There’s something to be said for just getting some guys together and playin’ with a few microphones in front of them and flipping the machine on. It used to be all records were made that way. Most of my records have been made close to that way, but this is maybe the livest ever, you know. Everybody was up in the studio playin’ at one time.

The album took you quite a while to write, whereas the recording time was really short.
Well, it was just, it was written over a period of three years. You know, I was writing a book too and I sort of had the luxury of taking three years to write it, whereas normally I’m like — my last record [Townes] was a record of somebody else’s songs [Townes Van Zandt], so that had a lot to do with it. This stuff went back to like, the first two songs I wrote for Joan Baez’s record, “God is God” and “I Am a Wanderer” and then I just kept writing. There was one other song which was written for another project. “Lonely Are the Free” was written for a film called Leaves of Grass that Tim Blake Nelson wrote and directed. I was in it, so I wrote that and recorded a different version because it had to be done, so I just did it on my ProTools rig. Then I re-recorded it for this record because I liked the song and thought I could push it a little further. But everything was sort of wrapped around finishing the book, and then when I got the book finished, I started concentrating on the record again; trying to figure out what I was going to do about recording it and tracked T Bone [Burnett] down. I recorded “The City” in May separate from the other tracks because it had to be ready for the last episode of Treme. So T Bone flew in for that and Alan Toussaint wrote the trombone part. It’s all New Orleans guys on that except for Jay, who did play drums. And then the rest of it was made in five days. I took a little longer to mix, but I didn’t overdub any vocals, it’s all pretty much live. The only vocal I replaced is where I punched in one line where I sang an incorrect lyric.

The album and the book share the same title. Was it your intention that one would inform the other, or was it accidental?
It was accidental. The book was always I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive. I didn’t name the record that until — I recorded the song, but I just sort of did it on a whim and thought, ‘well, we can maybe use it for an extra track,’ you know, the Hank Williams song. But I didn’t decide until T Bone and I were mixing and we made the first sequence of the record, which ended up being the one we used, and sat back and listened to it and it just dawned on me that the songs were kind of about the same things that the book’s about, when it comes to the big theme stuff. Spirituality and mortality as it relates to spirituality and vice versa. And mortality not as necessarily a morbid or negative thing, but just a part of life. My dad died three years ago and that has a lot to do with it. Between the book — well, the last half of the book which was written since he died — and all the songs on this record, I think I made the only art I could have made. Looking back at it now, I made the only art I could have made following my father’s death.

Did you have a lot of chance to reflect on your relationship?
We were pretty close. He didn’t quite understand why I’d moved to New York. My mom and dad moved to Tennessee to be near me and my sister, Stacey [also a musician], she lives in Nashville, too. And, my brother had moved there because he was my tour manager for a long time. So, they just had a lot of kids who lived there and my mom’s from there originally, and they moved to Tennessee like, 13 or 14 years ago. He didn’t quite understand why I felt the need to go to New York. I just need to go to New York. Alison [Moorer, also a singer and a part of Earle’s band] and I got married and we just kinda wanted a place where neither one of us had any history, have a little bit more time to ourselves, and just wanted a place to start fresh. I don’t regret that. I understand why it upset him a little bit, but other than that we got along fine.

Normally when kids leave home at 18 their parents get a little upset. I like that even leaving home much later in life, they still feel a little resentment. That’s sweet.
I left home when I was 16, but I was pretty close to my family. We’re a big, close family. It took a hit when my dad died and it hasn’t quite recovered, you know? Everybody goes through this process differently. My brothers and sisters didn’t necessarily see this the same way I did. I hated seeing him the way he was the last couple years of his life. He died of emphysema and congestive heart failure. He struggled for breath every day and couldn’t walk across the room. He was kind of a wanderer, he liked trips and to go for walks and it was just a really low quality way for him to live. I was relieved, I have to admit, I was relieved when he finally passed away. For him, not seeing him have to struggle for breath anymore.

As you mentioned, one of the album’s themes is spirituality. Do you identify with a particular ideology?
Uh, my spirituality’s pretty simple. The closest thing I have to a spiritual system — I don’t belong to any church. I’m not Christian, I’m not a Muslim, but I do believe in God. I don’t think that Christians are wrong, they’re just gettin’ to God differently than I do. I hope they think that about me, but if they don’t, I’m okay with that too. I just believe there’s a God and it ain’t me, and that’s about as far as I’ve gotten. It’s all in the song [“God is God”].

Is your spirituality part of your recovery process?
Sure it is, because my spiritual system is a 12-step program. That’s my spiritual practice, because I still go to meetings and call my sponsor and I work steps. That’s what I do.

It’s fascinating to me to see people who don’t maybe have that spiritual anchor and go through 12 steps anyways.
I think it works fine. I didn’t have any aversion to it, but I’ve seen people who do. This is my only spiritual system. I don’t practice any religion, I meditate, but I kinda learned to do that since I got clean.

This likely comes up in every interview, and I don’t think it’s always a salacious, gossipy thing when people ask you about your addiction issues. Rather, it’s fascinating and hopeful to talk about getting clean. Are you tired of talking about it, though?
Well, I get kinda tired of talking about it sometimes, but I don’t get tired of talking about it to people who need a program. There’s lots of restrictions about how much I can talk about it within this situation, you know. There are traditions that state I can only go so far talking about it in press, radio or films or TV, any kind of media stuff. And there’s reasons for that. It’s about the anonymity more than anything else. But, anonymity to me has never really been about me... Most people know I’m an addict and most people know I’m in recovery. If anybody doubts I’m in recovery — you’ll know when I stop going to meetings. You’ll start reading about me in the paper again.

How has your songwriting narrative changed over the years? People associate you with having such an interesting life, so what stories are interesting to you?
I don’t know. I like Harry Potter books. I love’em! I’ve been in mourning ever since they ended. I grew up reading Tolkien and that kind of stuff. I read a lot of hardcore hipster literature, but I think J.K. Rowling’s a great storyteller. I found out about those books because I lived with a woman who had a 10-year-old girl, and when Azkaban came out, I took her when they opened up the boxes at midnight and I saw kids lined up around an entire mall to buy a book, which I found pretty amazing. So I thought, ‘I must be missing something here’ and I backtracked and bought the rest of them. I’m still heartbroken they’re finished. (Laughs)

I heard rumours today that there might be more Potter on the way.
Really?! That’s interesting. That made my whole day.

Your acting career has taken off in the last few years. Eric Overmyer [The Wire, Treme] came to Vancouver last year and listening to him talk about characterization was amazing. How has working within TV affected you as a songwriter?
As an actor, I’ve never said any words that weren’t written by David Simon, Eric Overmyer, Richard Prize or Tim Blake Nelson. When you read words written by people like that, you get to be a better writer. It’s helped me a lot as a writer and in all the stuff that I do. I had a blast doing The Wire and I’ve had a blast doing Treme. And I get called for stuff and I go out and read for parts. I actually like television, because I think some of the best stuff being written today is for television.

What kind of parts do you get to read for?
Well, when Simon called me about the character in Treme, he said, ‘OK, you’ve been officially typecast.’ It is very similar to my character on The Wire. It’s a mentor figure. But in my one feature, the Tim Blake Nelson movie, I was a bad guy. I was the bad guy. I’m readin’ for a thing where I’m a villain in a couple of days, just on tape, so that’s fun to do, because I haven’t done much of it. I’ve been good guys far more. I did do a Law & Order: SVU where I played kind of a hippie-dippy teacher in Riker’s Island. It was a really fun scene that got cut up and didn’t make that much sense in the show. The way the scene was originally written, I got into Ice-T’s face and quoted Tupac and he backs me down. But Tupac’s estate wouldn’t clear the lyrics, so they had to cut that part out. That’s why I did it, because that scene was hilarious, but getting to do different things is — I’m gonna read for my first real, live sociopath in a day or two. I’m looking forward to that.

Steve Earle performs with the Dukes (and Duchesses) featuring Allison Moorer at The Centre on Sunday, June 26, 8pm. Tickets $48 from Ticketmaster.