Interview: 19 September 2008
How have you found your first big run of press interviews?
“I’ve found it interesting. All the interviewers are so different. Even if there are a lot of recurring questions. I think questions are fun to answer, even if everyone does want to know about Fleet Foxes [laughs].”
Although it’s your fourth LP, does it feel like Furr will serve as your introduction to the world?
“If this is the one most people will hear first, that’s fine by me: I feel like it’s pretty strong. It doesn’t matter when people hear of us, all the albums exist, they’re all out there, waiting. People won’t just discover you at one time; they’ll be discovering you long after you’re gone.”
Have you made albums with that romantic idea of decades-on posterity in mind?
“I think any art does that. Any kind of creation is a human wanting to extend himself over time. I’ve never really thought too much about people listening to what we’re doing 30 years from now, or something, but, sure, it’s impossible to deny that some part of you is hoping for that. Ideally, you’d like people to enjoy the records now, and in the future. I’m looking for the best of both worlds, always.”
What were your beginnings in music-making?
“I started trying to play the banjo when I was about six years old. My father was a bluegrass musician, so that was why I started.”
Was that a difficult thing to do at that age?
“I have no idea, I can’t really remember being six. But I don’t think so. One day you’re being taught to brush your teeth, and the next you’re being taught to play the banjo, and the next you’re being taught to work the microwave. It’s all sort of the same at that age.”
Can you draw a straight-line between those banjo-pickin’ beginnings and what you do now?
“Yeah, I think there’s a pretty straight-line, deep beneath all the crooked lines I’ve scrawled all over the top. Since then, I played in a couple of bands in high-school, and the members of Blitzen Trapper were in those bands, ’cause we all went to school together. Me and [bassist] Mikey [Van Pelt] had a band called The Baldricks, which was named after a character from that [TV] show Blackadder.”
So what was your 'cunning plan'?
“[Laughs] To play at parties. That was about it. We were just pretty straight rock music, emulating whatever it was we were listening to at the time. Which, in high-school, was all about Nirvana. And Smashing Pumpkins were big. And maybe REM.”
When Blitzen Trapper began, was it a chance to author an identity, anew?
“Even though we'd been playing music together for a long time, we didn't really begin until about four, five years ago. I don’t think there was any conscious desire to make some sort of consistent statement. I don’t think there’s some big overarching theme with the Trapper, other than just the desire to write good songs. I think of myself, and I think of Blitzen Trapper, as songwriting, rather than just a specific sound. I think we just wanted to make American music.”
What does ‘American music’ mean to you?
“I think that ‘American music’ is tied to very specific things: bluegrass music, country music, mountain music. And, also, R&B and hip-hop stuff, in terms of its lyrical approach. I think of those when I think of American music.”
Is making it a difficult ideal to live up to?
“I don’t know. You can only make up what you hear in your head, and hope that people enjoy it. I think our identity, as a band, is being amorphous: able to embrace all kinds of different sounds, and experiment with different recording approaches. I’ve always seen recording and live-shows as being two different arts, so I feel free to make our albums much different from how we are as a band. There’s such a different energy to making recordings. When you’re playing live, there’s a physical audience in front of you, and you’re sharing the energy, whereas making a record feels like making a painting: you’re making this artwork, and the audience will come in later. For me, it takes eight months to make a record. Working for that long, the songs can unspool in all kinds of different ways.”
At what point during recordings does the album start to have an identity?
“You only discover that well into the making of a record. This record I didn’t name until I was finished; I realized the song "Furr" was the strongest, so I decided to make that the cornerstone of what was going on. People just connect with that song; it really speaks to people on a very interesting level, due to its specific lyrical content.”
What are the recurring lyrical concerns of Furr?
“Well, aside from love, which is the one great subject-matter of the human phenom, I think there’s a pretty strong sense of the divine, and, though it sounds pretty corny, a sense of spiritual awakening, like waking up from dreaming. There’s also a theme of a love of the Western world as it slowly changes, and folds in on itself. “Sleepy Time in the Western World” is specifically about that, about America in general. Having toured around for a while, I can see how America’s changing: there’s a humbling going on, as our economy drifts towards chaos, and our political situation drifts towards chaos. I think that people are having to re-evaluate themselves, that there’s some kind of renewal that has to happen. America can’t keep thinking of itself as the prized child.”
A realization that the world is larger than the self-contained borders of the lower 48?
“Larger than the scope of our economy, and the range of our weapons. I think that this country is, finally, waking up to the rest of the world.”
