He doesn't want to talk about it
Jay Farrar may be a great songwriter, but he gives a lousy interview
PREVIEW
JAY FARRAR
Friday, September 20
The Night Gallery
Seven or eight years ago, when Uncle Tupelo split in two to produce Jay Farrar's Son Volt and Jeff Tweedy's Wilco, you wouldn’t have expected that Farrar would have to exist under the shadow of his former partner’s band. He was practically anointed as the "next big thing" by the critical elite, and Trace, his first release with Son Volt, was heralded far and wide as a work of genius.
But facts are facts, Jack – and even if we have enough sensitivity to not bring it up in the interview, we do have to mention it in the article. So that’s our one Wilco reference. And now, back to our regularly scheduled article.
And, hell, on his own, Farrar has done quite well. He’s enjoyed a great deal of acclaim, a large cult following and even a Top 40 hit ("Drown," from the aforementioned Trace). He’s also been credited (or blamed) with kick-starting the alt-country movement, unleashing a landslide of earnest singer-songwriters plumbing the Carter Family back-catalogue and scouring used clothing stores for cowboy shirts. That’s a terrible burden for any one man to carry but, thankfully, Farrar isn’t really prone to self-reflection, at least not in public.
"It’s not something I think about every day, but yeah, it’s certainly been a long ride for me," he agrees over the phone." I had to go back and listen to all of the Uncle Tupelo stuff for the compilation (89/93: An Anthology, released last year). It was interesting to hear this stuff which was recorded so long ago."
Although Farrar is reserved almost to the point of being comatose, he has a point to make about where he was with Uncle Tupelo and where he is now, which is at a bit of a crossroads – after three albums of pretty ballads and Crazy Horse-inspired hard rock, Warner Brothers dropped Son Volt during one of the label's periodic house-cleanings. Realizing an opportunity to stretch out a little, Farrar decided to check out the solo route, playing most of the instruments on his latest full-length release, Sebastopol, and dragging in The Flaming Lips’ Steven Drozd to loosen up the sound a little.
"The ultimate philosophy is not to be bound by a particular label," he explains. "You have to follow where the innovations are coming from, delving into different sounds and instrumentation, working with electronic synthesizers and mellotrons, even banjos."
That is a commendable stance to take, but with Farrar stretching farther than he ever has before, it’s strange that he should choose to go on a solo tour at this point – right?
"No....this sort of represents something I haven’t done in the past," he replies, "to present the songs this simply. Certainly going out alone with acoustic guitars is more of a challenge at this point. It’s why I chose to do it."
Then what are the odds of Farrar bringing a touring version of the Sebastopol album out on the road to show off his newfound love of synthesizers?
Long pause. "I’m sure it’s something that I’ll go back to, but… like, the banjo is not something that I’m gonna want to do every time."
And what about Son Volt? Will we eventually see the band getting together for a new album or maybe some live shows?
"Well, the possibility exists for us to do something else. But I have no plans at this point." Silence.
Don’t misunderstand. Farrar is a polite and well-spoken man – he’s just not terribly engaging. As his answers dwindle and the pauses become longer, it becomes obvious that the interview has run its natural course.
Not having the heart to subject the poor man to more questions (or to fumble for more), I decide to end it on this note.
He’s a hell of a songwriter and a lousy interview – but then the best interview I've ever done was with a member of the Barenaked Ladies. You can read into that whatever you like. |
