New York, NY (Top40 Charts/ Shore Fire Media) • Are there any notable literary, historical or mythological allusions on the new record?
The chorus of "Fighting Fish" references the paradox of Zeno's Arrow. This is an old paradox, forwarded by a Greek philosopher named Zeno, that deals with the prickly concepts of motion and time. The song tackles the prickly concept of ambition--the unavoidable presumptuousness of believing that one can make a meaningful contribution.
"Beekeeper" references Prometheus, the Greek God who stole fire from the gods to give to man. In the song, humanity finds that the gift has been repossessed.
"The Man I Knew" references non-Euclidian geometry--an area of study in which our most basic mathematical and geometric truths do not hold true. Shapes and angles change non-Euclidean geometry and new truths seem to emerge. Good drugs can get you the same feeling.
"Sound the Bells" references Mercator, the cartographer who devised the projection that we use to make flat maps of the round world.
"The Lamb" references the biblical figures of the lion and the lamb.
• Are there any overarching themes on the new record?
I've always been attracted to big themes: love, loss, death, communion, and reconciliation. On Parts of Speech, I've tried to regard these ideas from new camera angles. I almost always write true stories, but on this record I've used new perspectives to relay them. I sometimes write as a man, sometimes as a removed narrator, sometimes from the trenches, in the first person.
• How has your sound/songwriting developed between your previous records and 'Parts of Speech'?
In my 20s, I lived with my fingers in the sockets. I wrote music I was proud of, I met life-long friends and musical collaborators, but personally it was a very challenging time. The records I made then taught me how to channel urgent feeling into music. I was lucky to land with the Doomtree crew--an incredibly talented collective. But I would have been hard pressed then to tell you what a bridge was. Sitting down to write the songs on Parts of Speech, I brought a better understanding of songwriting, a better understanding of craft. I've worked with instrumentalists, producers, and other writers to become a better musician. I take musical risks on this record that wouldn't have occurred to me before: there are some songs with strong pop melodies and some songs with experimental tempo changes. On my first records, I would have been afraid to sound too pop, worried I'd forfeit some underground credibility. And I wouldn't have experimented with tempos, because I had no idea you could do that. These days by biggest concern isn't with genre or satisfying expectations--it's making the best music that I can.
• Who are your musical influences? Are there specific songwriters you feel especially connected to?
When I'm working on new music, I try avoid listening to artists that I admire, worried that their sounds will creep into my writing. That said,
Leonard Cohen is a thug of a lyricist. One day I'd like to consider myself his peer. Select compositions of Erik Satie and
Philip Glass continue to mesmerize me, even after listening to them too many times to count.
• What is your songwriting process? Do lyrics come first or music? And how do they inspire one another?
I keep a running document where I deposit words or phrases that catch my ear. When it's time to write a song, either over a Doomtree beat or over one of my own piano melodies, I'll often scan this document for any scraps that seem to resonate with the music. Then comes the rather grueling process of stitching a full lyric together--a lot of staring into space, a lot of swearing, a good share of whiskey.
• Who are some of your favorite philosophers and how have they influenced your writing?
Gotta admit, after ten years out of the academic sphere, I'm starting to get rusty. But generally I like empiricism. And I'm a sucker for good rhetorician: a writer with a vibrant style and a strong argument, even if I don't agree with all of his positions. Good philosophy often (though not always) reads like creative writing; there's lots of metaphor and a definite authorial voice. I think that's part of why I chose to major it in, though I didn't realize it then.
• Who are your favorite authors? Has their work shaped the way you write?
I like authors named David.
David Foster Wallace,
David Eggers,
David Rackoff.
Annie Dillard kills it too. My favorite genre is called creative non-fiction--a lousy, boring name for bad-ass brand of literature. Writers of creative non-fiction traffic in true stories. Don't think journalism; instead think of your most charismatic friend telling his or her best story to a rapt barroom table. This is the story you could hear a dozen times, and still ask that it be retold so that the newcomer can hear it too. The anecdote is good because there's some kernel of humor, or poignancy, or amazingness. And it's good because this person is good at telling it, with style and suspense and killer timing. There are some friends, in fact, that are so good at telling stories, that you could enjoy listening to them talk about anything. Or about nothing. A Tuesday-morning trip to the DMV can become amusing through their lens. This is what creative non-fiction is often about: a chance to ride around in the head of someone fascinating, even if they're just doing normal stuff. I've always been attracted to sentences, more than I am to plots. I can use a brilliant turn of phrase in my real life, whereas I can't really deploy an arching plot in casual conversation. For that reason, I'm naturally attracted to creative-non-fiction, a genre that rewards style and sensibility. I think I approach songwriting in much the same way: the language has to be good. The words are what I know and what I love and (if I can be so immodest) what I'm really damn good at.
