Tuning up for Interstellar Rodeo.
Jason Isbell believes in revealing ‘a little bit about who you are’
As silly as Twitter seems, the social media network can offer insight into your favourite performers, pet celebrities and, er, politicians.
Alabama native and singersongwriter Jason Isbell, who usually pens tunes about the darker side of life, tweets about his love of reformed punk bands. (“I saw SLINT and it was AWESOME.”) He gets testy. (“Next 4th of July, can we shoot all the fireworks out of the boots of anyone still using the phrase ‘lady lumps?’”) And the former creative writing major shows off his oddball sense of humour. (“The next planet of the apes should have Brad Pitt and be about the apes playing baseball. I think y’all know where I’m going with this. APE MAN OUT. Nobody got it.”)
Twitter “has to do with how witty you are and how much you can contribute to a larger conversation, so I like it,” Isbell says on a rare day off from touring his latest altcountry album, Southeastern. His voice is quiet, weary yet gracious as he answers questions over the phone from Boulder, Colorado.
“I have a lot of time to do something like (Twitter) and I don’t like Facebook. It feels too invasive and I think the demographic for Facebook doesn’t work as well for me because everyone is on there now, even people’s grandparents. There are a ton of religious folks on Facebook who aren’t very open-minded and they’ll criticize you a lot and I don’t even know how to sign into my Facebook account at this point.
“But I like Twitter a lot. It’s easy and fun. I think it’s important to show folks a little bit about who you are so when you go into an audience, the audience that you built, they’re fairly similar to you and it’s not as easy for them to turn their back on you or start burning your records if you say something they don’t agree with.”
Loyalty is key for Isbell. Even though he left his country-rock band Drive-Truckers in 2007 — after six years of boozin’ and fightin’ — he sometimes performs with his former bandmates.
In May, with two years of sobriety under his belt, Isbell reunited with Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley for a benefit gig in Florence, Alabama.
“It was nice to see them and play those songs again, because I certainly miss those songs a lot,” says Isbell, 35. “It was fun. I had a really good time. It was good to see old friends I hadn’t seen in a long time, especially Patterson and Cooley. They’re family.”
He’ll add the occasional Drive-By ditty into his sets — “If I wrote ’em, I’ll play ’em” — but with four solo albums, including his 2007 debut, Sirens of the Ditch, and 2009’s Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, he’s got his own share of material to get through. Southeastern, released last year, is often regarded as his most introspective and emotional album — his first after a stint in rehab.
His then-girlfriend, nowwife Amanda Shires— vocalist, fiddler and master’s student in poetry — urged Isbell to seek help. The two wrote some of the tunes for their latest solo albums, Southeastern and Down Fell the Doves, at the same time. Isbell would work in one room of their house, she’d work in another, then they’d reconvene in the evening and listen to the results.
Songs That She Sang in the Shower, which seems to detail the knowing futility of a relationship, was created by this approach. The gentle song starts with one of Southeastern’s most arresting and acerbic lines — “On a lark, on a whim / I said ‘There’s two kind of men in the world and you’re neither of them’” and includes references to tunes by punk veterans Anti-Flag, and rhythm and blues legends Eddie Hinton and Donnie Fritts.
“It’s a character-driven song, it’s not me,” says Isbell. “Different instances, different people I know. I think I was trying to make a statement about the people I really like to associate with are the people who listen to very different kinds of music. It’s also a little bit nostalgic, I guess, relationship-wise. I was really proud of the first couple of lines of that song — which can make it difficult to finish after that. If you have a really strong first line, it’s like ‘Where do I go from here?’ But it’s just a matter of work, editing a lot.”
Most of Southeastern’s 11 other tunes hit even harder — as Isbell tells the tale of a lonely cancer victim (Elephant), saving a child from sexual abuse (Yvette) or
“If you have a really strong first line, it’s like ‘Where do I go from here?’”
Jason Isbell
wrestling with his former demons.
Super 8 is a collage of wild moments on the road, which starts and ends with the line: “I don’t want to die in a Super 8 motel.” On paper, those words look like they belong to a morbid dirge, but he turns them into a self-deprecating party number.
Isbell wouldn’t make the best pitchman for Super 8, nor is he the guy to sell Interstellar Rodeo’s tradition of pairing wines with its performers. Every year, the three-day festival sells vintages recommended by local wine expert Gurvinder Bhatia. He suggests the “soul-baring honesty” of a Bogle Chenin Blanc, flavoured with “orange blossoms, green apple, pineapple and lime” for Isbell’s Sunday evening set.
As a recovering alcoholic, Isbell is perplexed by the wine/music concept.
“That’s so silly,” he giggles. “That seems like a really ridiculous idea. I understand pairing wine with food, but what sort of wine would you drink for a Slint show? Or a Metallica show?
“Metallica’s fans are getting older and they have jobs now, so I’d recommend whatever doesn’t give you too much of a headache, I guess,” Isbell says. “Something that’s not too awfully sweet.”